Enchant
by Swordsmen Anonymous
Summary: Sometimes, the only way to overcome great darkness is to become it. These words set him down a winding path and before he knows it, Kalan Baade is entangled in a web of ancient duties and deceits, and even more entangled in the affairs of a one Mirajane Strauss.
1. Act 1

A/N: Quick info about the story...

The story begins a few months after the Edolas Arc in the anime (the Act 1 below is separate in time, however) and a few months before the Tenrou Island Arc. There will be some pretty significant deviations from canon, but major issues like Zeref and Acnologia and the fate of the Dragons will be handled, albeit in a different way than the canon seems to be leaning. The backbone of the story draws from the stories of King Arthur, but in a kind of fractured way. The rest, you'll find out.

* * *

><p>Act 1<p>

Aetherial

* * *

><p>"We're so, so close..."<p>

Their target was an impossibly old citadel that went by no other name than the Rock. The fortress had been set into the obsidian peaks of the Folds, the mountain range in the northwest of Fiore.

The Folds in an age forgotten were once volcanoes and the ash and magma from their sputtering turned them so black you could scarcely see them at night. But now they were cold. Frighteningly cold. These mountains were the highest in Fiore, as well as the oldest, and they dwarfed the crew of bandits that meant to scale them.

"...to having everything we could ever want..."

Their leader could command the attention of men as though he was born to do so. He stood on a rock, in his thick coat and cape, and set a fire in the crowd of fifty that looked up at him.

He didn't look like an average thug. He had large rust colored eyes, and a long, but kind smile. His face had gone pale from the wind and cold, making his scruffy goatee stand out. His dark hair was held back in a low ponytail. He wasn't tall, or muscular, but his presence was huge.

"...everything we deserve, and more. No more sleepless nights because the hunger keeps us awake..."

With nothing more than a gesture, he made his crew forget how long the road here had been, how many blizzards had rocked the region in the past month, how crazy their expedition was. Instead, he drew their attention to the fantastic treasure that awaited them, the _power_ it would grant them.

"...you've all been so brave to take your destinies into your own hands, and I couldn't have asked any more of you..."

The canter of his speech enthralled them. The man was no mage, despite how much he knew about magic. But his words had a certain witchcraft to them, a spell woven by his cunning and charisma.

"...and now we've arrived at the final leg of our journey, the final _fucking _pay-off moment..."

There were flowers and plants here at the foothills the likes of which hadn't grown in the rest of Fiore in thousands of years. Plants that were ashen gray, and thrived and in the cold. Some had flowers that bloomed in magnificent reds and blues, and gave off a sweet, but chilling fragrance.

"...it won't be easy, but when has that stopped us? We're not about to quit, not now when the treasure of the ages is within sight.."

Here he pointed back, to the Rock, which was steadily being engulfed by gray clouds, as if to hide it from view. it was an ominous sign. There was magic in these mountains, of that everyone was sure.

Even the bandits without a scrap of magic in them could feel it; the wind whispered spells and incantations in a language lost to men, and the rocks trembled and whined as they passed. It frightened them all.

"...remember where we came from, and where we're going..."

Here, he threw them a smile that set the kindling down in their hearts. The whole crew strained towards him without even knowing it; a hardy group of thugs and bandits giving their full attention and respect to this clean cut man. He looked each one of them in the eye.

"THIS IS IT!"

He raised his fist, and they all roared with him, their breath rising in steamy puffs. Any misgivings they had were gone in that cheer. Their weapons rose defiantly against the grey clouds that were slowly blocking out the sun.

"This is it."

He finished more to himself than anyone else. The man was flushed and exuberant, despite the terrible cold. His grin stretched, even as pitch colored snow began to fall. He turned his back on his men, and his rusty eyes turned to the Rock. He was so close. So fucking close.

* * *

><p>The journey up the mountain had cost them much more than he could have ever imagined.<p>

They hadn't even made it half way up the Folds when the first of the blizzards had come. It was a storm unlike anything he'd ever seen, or read about. The grey clouds that cloaked the mountains spewed huge bolts of ice blue lightning and foot after foot of black snow. Within a week, they had to stop and set up a camp in a small grove of trees.

The black snow was heavy, because of the ash in it most of the bandits theorized, and wouldn't melt. Some of the drifts swallowed the very trees they had taken shelter in. It took them another week to dig their way out, and much of their equipment had to be left behind. No one was happy about the situation, their leader the least so.

But he still managed to frame the mission as not only doable, but as now worth more because of their sacrifice. The crew ate his words up, as usual, but they had a new bitter taste.

The days were cold, but the nights were freezing. After they could see the summit, the air had gotten so cold it was hard to breathe during the day, and during the night people died.

Someone had to be assigned to do rounds in the morning; to check everyone's skin to see whose blood had frozen while the sun was away. As they climbed further and further, more and more of them were dying. But still, they had continued until the Rock was only a few more miles away.

That was when the bandits began disappearing.

One night patrol had simply vanished, and after a day's search no trace of them could be found. Some said they had run away from this crazy mission. Others said it was the spirits.

Both were rumors that set their leaders teeth on edge. He was losing them and he knew it. No wanted to do night patrol anymore. No one even wanted to leave their tents at night.

The man's speeches no longer stirred the fear out of them. Nothing he could say would keep them from talking about the ghosts that didn't want them here; about how mad it was to be in these haunted mountains.

Then two more of them disappeared.

Only this time there was a witness.

"It was…black," the bandit was a giant of a man, with metal studs drilled into his skull, and it was painfully clear he had been scared out of his mind, "It wasn't an animal, it was something dark and evil. It just swallowed Jericho, and Kai," his breath stopped up in his throat, and it took him a few minutes to continue, "It ripped him in half like it was nothing, and then it sighed."

He was breathing so hard by this point, he had begun to choke and someone ran to fetch him some water. Their leader was kneeling in front of him, his rust eyes distant. This was a problem. A huge problem.

They sat in the center of their encampment. This was far more dangerous than a rumor; this was the death of his plans, delivered straight from the mouth of this bandit. Everyone had gathered around to hear the story. He couldn't quiet this down, he couldn't make them forget about the horror that was painted on this man's face.

"How did you escape?" the leader asked, when the bandit was ready to continue. He was dreading the answer.

"I started to run, but it followed me. It didn't make any noise, it just…flew along the ground. I didn't get far until it knocked me down. The thing didn't have a face, or a mouth but it leaned really close to me, and whispered 'begone from this mountain, you are not the blood heir'."

Everyone's faces lost their color, and turned to their leader. All at once, they were struck with how hard he was to read; his expression was as cold as the Folds themselves. Eventually one of them worked up the courage to ask, "What will we do now?"

His gaze turned frostily to the bandit who had spoken, "Well it's obvious isn't it?"

The bandit shrunk into his coat, deeply regretting speaking. All of them shrunk back too, to get away from the cold their leader was now giving off.

"We keep going."

That, as it turned out, was the last straw. In the morning, all of his crew was gone, and he was alone, two miles from the Rock. Whether they had made it back down the mountain was not his problems.

Damn cowards, he hoped the spirits they saw ate every last one of them.

* * *

><p>By himself, it took him only a few days to reach the Rock. It was much bigger than it looked from the ground. Its spires rose miles into the sky, above the peaks of the other mountains.<p>

The doors were thirty feet high, and wide enough to fit two elephants through. It wasn't hard to believe the legends that the place had been built for dragons. Up close, he could see the intricate magic seals that protected the place from intruders. He wasn't a mage but if he was careful he could disable them.

He had taken a book on seals out of his bag and was studying it when he felt someone join him in front of the Rock. The sun was bright, but he could see no shadow other than his own. He looked up, and what he saw made him begin to shiver.

Standing next to him was a silhouette of a man. It was blacker than anything he'd ever seen, like a hole in space. It hadn't a face or eyes, but he sensed it was staring at him. But despite the immense fear he felt, the man found his mind completely clear. He just stared at it, and it stared back at him.

"What are you?" he finally said, his voice sounding strangely hoarse.

"We are not," it said. It spoke in a thousand voices, all of varying pitch and tonality, "You are not. So you must begone from this mountain, you are not of the blood."

"I can't leave, spirit. You don't know, but I _need _to get into the Rock."

"We do know, everything, man not of the blood," It said and as the man began to respond, it raised a long fingered hand, and his voice stopped itself in his throat.

"We know exactly who you are, Aleksandr of Camelot, and that your wife and three children were killed by the Bane of Men a decade ago. We know you seek the Eye of Orpheus. But its meaning is not for you, for you are not the Bloodheir."

Aleksandr dropped his book, and clawed at his throat. He couldn't breathe. He looked at his fingers, and found that they were freezing. But it was with only with a calm, cold hatred that he wheezed to the spirit, "If you know, then you know it wasn't fair. It never is."

The silhouette shook its head and walked the short distance between itself and Aleksandr. "You are right but you are not, Aleksandr," it said, and it reached over and tapped him on the forehead. Aleksandr's body instantly went rigid. Within a minute a crust of black ice peeking through his skin in places. By the time the spirit turned to leave, he was completely encased.

"We know, all, Aleksandr. You are not. Death is neither."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This is something of a prologue, and sets up the happenings of this entire story, but normally an Act will have its own separate chapter to designate it and each Act will be 7-10 chapters, 3 Acts in total. So this seems like a weird way to start off, but the tie in will come eventually, trust me.


	2. Haunted and Hopeful in the Rain

**A/N:** This took way longer than it should have, but hey, it's here. Enjoy

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<p>

Haunted and Hopeful in the Rain

* * *

><p><em>Everything had gone grey and still. The trees had frozen in the breeze, the flowers caught themselves in mid-bloom. She alone moved, and she alone had color. The grey sealed the dew in place on the grass, and her footsteps didn't disturb it. She didn't disturb anything. She merely passed through, like a wraith. <em>

_She was in this damned graveyard. Her heart thudded painfully, and her breath hitched. She walked towards the grave, like she did every month. It was supposed to be raining, she noticed; but the rain drops hung suspended in the air. She was wearing a sundress, an obnoxiously orange one she only wore in the heat of the summer. Goosebumps ran along her exposed shoulders. She was there before she knew it._

Lisanna Strauss

_The sight of the grave never failed to bring some hot tears into her eyes. A bundle of roses was in her hands all of the sudden. She dropped them on the grave, then felt her knees give out. The two years of grief seemed to hit her all at once, and she was sobbing like a little girl for her mother. _

_Her stomach ached terribly, and she felt like she'd be sick. But through her tears, she could see a strange pink glow. It grew brighter and brighter, until she had to stumble backwards._

_It was the roses._

_As she watched in disbelief, the roses grew and grew. Eventually they formed a humanoid shape. Now the glow was dying, and she could see what had taken the place of the roses; peach colored skin, big blue eyes, and short white hair. The glow had gone, but she still was squinting. It couldn't..it couldn't.._

_"Mira?" _

_But it was. Mirajane Strauss was looking up into the eyes of her dead sister, Lisanna. Instantly, the color came back to the world, as did the motion. The rain came pouring down as Mirajane surged to her feet and embraced Lisanna. For what seemed like forever, she cried into her sister's hair, while Lisanna whispered to her that it was going to be alright. Of course it was, now that she was back. _

_Then rain stopped, and the cemetery faded into a huge field. The sun was setting, shading reds and oranges and purples into the sky. Grass tickled their ankles, and Mirajane found herself giggling, then doubled over with laughter. _

_"What so funny Mira?" Lisanna asked, a smile of her own painting her face. Mirajane grabbed Lisanna's hands, and spun her around._

_"I'm just so happy, Lisanna," she said, taking off at a run into the field. Lisanna followed her, laughing too. Mirajane felt so light. The grass was cool against her bare feet and the air was warm, and embracingly humid. Everything about Lisanna's death, the guilt, the grief all of it had disappeared. If she ran any faster, she thought, she might start flying._

_"Mira!" _

_Mirajane was so caught up in her euphoria she barely heard the strangled shout. _

_"Mira, help me!"_

_She stopped running. Mirajane's heart began to clench. Then it thudded so loud it sounded like thunder tearing from her chest. She didn't need to turn around to know what she'd see. But still she whirled around, and was struck by a wave of nausea. Again. It was happening again. _

_The beast was huge, as big as a building, and held Lisanna in one of its boulder sized fists. And then Lisanna screamed out. Mirajane could feel her pain, like she too was being crushed. Something white hot exploded inside her. Her eyes shone with fierce determination and her signature dark magic. No, she wouldn't let this happen. Not again. _

_Satan Sou…"_

_But the words wouldn't come. _

_Her magic dried up as quickly as it came. Where her burning anger had resided, icy despair took its place. The color was slowly draining out of everything, and the world was freezing again. Only this time, Mirajane too was caught up in it. She sunk to her knees, grey tears of frustration frozen on her cheeks. The cold was setting in as her world itself became paralyzed. She could only watch as Lisanna struggled. _

_She could only watch as her sister died. _

_Again. _

_"Mirajane!" _

* * *

><p>"Mirajane!"<p>

Mirajane's senses all came back to her at once, all with information that competed for her attention; the steady mechanical noise of the train; the smell of something freshly baked; an hollow aching in her bum from the lumpy seats; the bitter taste in her mouth from whatever she'd eaten for breakfast; a woman with red hair and a chocolate brown eye staring intently at her. Erza Scarlett.

"She wants to know if you want anything from the trolley," Erza was looking at her strangely.

Mirajane looked up and found a middle aged woman in a grey uniform smiling apologetically at her. Behind her was a trolley full of delicious looking pastries, but the smell was quickly becoming smothering; it filled the small booth and assaulted her rather than enticed her. Mirajane found her appetite waning.

"I don't think I want anything right now," Mirajane said, giving the best smile she could muster at the time, "But thank you anyway."

"Okay, dearie," the woman smiled back at her and Erza, then pushed her trolley on down to the next car. The door to their booth shut softly.

Mirajane sighed and rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window. The sky was a bleak gray that promised rain at any time. It was just past sunrise, but the sun was completely train was racing through Fiore's countryside, a league or two in from the coast. They were heading south, if Mirajane remembered correctly. Here, in the tail end of spring, everything was green and alive, and the petals of blooming flowers still drifted in the wind.

The strangely ominous beauty of the day almost distracted her from Erza's piercing glare. She didn't need to look to know that the scarlet haired woman would be trying to burn a hole in the back of her skull.

"Mira," Erza's voice was softer than Mirajane had thought it would be. She turned and faced Erza; her brown eyes were smudgy with concern, and she leaned across the booth to put her hand on Mirajane's knee, "Are you all right? Nervous about the job?"

"No, I'm not worried about the job at all," Truth. Catching some gang lord in some big city didn't scare her in the slightest.

"I'm just a little tired," Another truth. She was exhausted, far too tired to fall asleep.

"I'm fine, Erza." Lie. She wasn't fine, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Maybe if she could get a good night's rest…

"You don't need to do this job, you know," Erza continued, "Nobody wants to see you hurting, Mira."

"Aren't you the one who talked me into doing this, Erza?" Mirajane gave a small, teasing smile. A real one, this time.

Erza's smile was a little guilty, and Mirajane almost felt bad for saying it. She knew, Erza knew, everyone in the guild knew she was going through a phase, and it bothered them to see the normally cheery, delightful Mirajane staring off into space, forgetting to smile, and drooping behind the counter.

Going on a quest, of course, was the standard Fairy Tail cure all.

Mirajane had hardly been surprised when Erza had asked her to accompany her, Natsu (and Happy), Gray and Lucy on one of their quests. No matter how easy this quest was, Team Natsu was sure to make it an adventure to remember.

Maybe Mirajane needed some adventure in her life.

As though summoned by Mirajane's thoughts, Lucy ripped open the door to their booth, her hair disheveled and a frantic look in her brown eyes.

"Erza, I just woke up and Natsu and Gray aren't in the booth," Lucy said, then paused to gain her breath and three distinct _thumps _sounded above their heads, "I think they might be fighting on the roof."

"Those fools," Erza muttered, "I'll be back Mira, after I teach those two idiots a lesson."

"Be careful," Mirajane said, but Erza and Lucy were already gone. She smiled to herself, and rested her head against the window again. She found her eyes drooping shut, but this time when she dreamed, she dreamed of a knight in shining white armor rescuing her in the middle of a rainswept battlefield.

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(Central District)

Once a refuge of playwrights and other artists, a corporate minded group called Artisan took the small roadside town and turned it into the industrial capital of Fiore. More than 20% of all magical devices are made here each year. There is a huge disparity between the upper and working classes. The Central District is home to Artisan headquarters and many other tourist attractions.

* * *

><p>The rain still hadn't come when they arrived in Caerleon City, but the clouds had gotten darker, and even at midday, the sun couldn't pierce them. But the train station was huge, and lit by similarly huge clinical magical lights. The walls were painted in rich blues, accented with gold and with soft orange magic flames. There were various vendors all around the place selling wares for traveling mages.<p>

This whole train system (and most other businesses in Caerleon) were run by Artisan, one of three corporate giants that dominated the magical world in terms of commerce. Their client was the regional manager, Ellis Vanunu.

"He's supposed to meet us here at the station, right?" Lucy asked, pulling at her little white jacket .

"That's what he said." Erza responded. Lucy, Mirajane and Erza were sitting on a bench on the perimeter of the station, waiting for Ellis Vanunu to show up. The thickness of the crowd rose and fell with the coming of each train, like heartbeat. There were mages and businessmen; artists and workers. Mirajane thought this city was the opposite of Magnolia.

In Magnolia, everyone moved slowly, because there just wasn't any hurry. To a shop to buy some fish here, to browse some wares somewhere else. Here, everyone needed to be somewhere five minutes ago. Even the guild mages seemed to infected by the industry.

Where everyone was in such a hurry, Mirajane found herself annoyed that their client would be late.

"Lucy!"

The shout came from none other than Natsu Dragneel, with Gray Fullbuster and Happy in tow. Everyone within a fifteen foot radius stared at them as they made their way over to the bench. Mirajane sighed and covered her face with a hand; all of them stood out far too much.

"Lucy, Lucy," Natsu said, over and over, doing a little dance once he reached the three girls.

"Lucy!" Happy echoed.

"What Natsu?" Lucy snapped, her cheeks quickly turning red, "And can you _please_ quiet down. Everyone is staring at us!"

"Look here what I found at one of the stalls," Natsu said, reaching around in his pocket, "Now where did I put it…"

"You put it into your pocket didn't you?" Happy said, sitting down on Lucy's lap, "Or you might have put in in your bag."

Erza looked quizzically at Gray, who simply shrugged, "It's actually pretty impressive, if flame-brain can find it."

"What is it?" Mirajane asked, wondering what they could have possibly found in the ten minutes since they'd gotten off the train.

"It's…ah.." Gray scratched the back of his head, "It kind of hard to explain. It sort of li-"

"FOUND IT!"

Once again, the attention of everyone in the station was drawn to Natsu's shout. Gray rolled his eyes, "I guess he'll show you now."

In Natsu's hand was a dark purple orb. Inside, a strange smoky substance orbited a small crimson ring in the center of the orb. The orb radiated a strange light, and cast strange shadows on Natsu's face.

"I found this at that stall over there," Natsu said, the orb making his face seem oddly evil, "The guy said that it used to be…"

He held the orb around so everyone could see it. The sphere seemed evil and Natsu grinned, looking so much like a villain.

"…a demon's EYE!" he finished, throwing his head back and cackling, for the third time, making everyone in the room turn to stare at their group.

"Natsu, quiet the hell down," Gray hissed slapping a hand over Natsu's mouth, "We're not at the guild anymore, you've gotta turn it down and—OW!"

Natsu had bitten Gray's hand. Hard.

"Are you crazy?" Gray cried, cradling his hand, "You fucking bonfire-breathing bastard, my hand is _bleeding_!"

"Yeah well you shouldn't have put it over my mouth, then," Natsu responded, waving a dismissive hand at Gray.

Meanwhile, Erza had a small frown. Something was bothering her about the current situation, besides the fact that Gray and Natsu were about to fight. No, no, it was something small, but important; something they usually didn't think about on missions…

"Do you want to say that agai—"

"Natsu, where'd you say you got that orb?" Erza asked, running right over Gray's challenge. She folded her arms and crossed her legs, and closed her eyes. Everyone in the group gulped. Even Mirajane felt the danger that Erza was promising.

"Umm I got it at," maybe Natsu realized he was navigating into dangerous waters, because his from there he continued with clear fear, "one of the stalls."

"That means you had to pay for it," Erza still hadn't opened her eyes, and Natsu tried to say something but it came out as a croak, "How much did it cost, Natsu?"

Everyone's eyes were now on Natsu. The dragon slayer gave a small, sheepish smile, and said in a tiny voice, "It was 499 jewels."

Mirajane looked at Lucy. The celestial key mage just shook her head and put a finger to her lips.

"We shouldn't get involved," Lucy whispered, "This isn't going to end well…"

"The guild gave us 500 jewels for this mission," Erza said calm at first, but in a second she was on her feet and holding Natsu and Gray off the ground by their collars, "We now have ONE JEWEL to finish our mission."

"This is all your fault, flame-brain," Gray murmured.

"You're the one who pointed the thing out, numb-nuts," Natsu shot back.

"Yeah but you—OW!"

Erza slammed both of their heads together, "One of you should have had the common sense to realize what you were doing. Honestly, both of you are such idiots. I should just take your—"

"You are Fairy Tail, I presume?"

The brawl that was about to break out froze in the wake of the comment. It was spoken by a man no taller than four feet. His skin had a fake bronze and was taut across his jaw and forehead, pressed for any and all wrinkles. His hair was a chemical blonde, but his brows were brown; all his hair, from his little beard to his sideburns was trimmed so that not even a hair was out of place.

Mirajane thought he looked rather…plastic.

"Of course you are, who else could you be," His blank, gray brown eyes regarded them from over a pair of false glasses. He looked at each one of them with the same look of trying to solve a problem, his gaze lingering for a second longer on Mirajane. Finally with a sigh he straightened his charcoal suit, and made sure his navy tie was oriented.

"I am Ellis Vanunu," he said, giving a stiff little bow, "I am your client, and If you'll follow me, we can begin to debrief you on what it is I want done."

And with that, he checked his little pocket watch and began to stride off into the sea of people, not even looking back to see if they were following him. Erza was the first to react, dropping Natsu and Gray and rushing after their client.

"Hurry up, or we'll lose him," she called over her shoulder.

Mirajane stood, as did Lucy. Natsu and Gray were still breathless on their knees, thanking whatever entity that was out there for the sudden intervention. Lucy had to get them on their way with a little push. Eventually, Team Natsu plus Mirajane made their way to to the huge revolving doors that led out into Caerleon City. Ellis Vanunu was waiting for them.

"This way, please."

* * *

><p>Stepping out into the city was like stepping into a wind tunnel; the storm that had been forming was coming to a head; the sky was now dark grey marbled with black and the wind whipped through the huge buildings of Caerleon with a vicious howl. The wind had also chilled the air, putting a little bite into the spring weather. But for how bad this storm was shaping up to be, there was still no rain, Mirajane noticed.<p>

"We have a car waiting for us just ahead," Ellis Vanunu shouted over the wind, and pointed to a large all black magic car with tinted windows parked across the street. With the tiny man in the lead, their group ran across the street during a stoppage in traffic. Ellis Vanunu slid door to the magic car open and held it so they all could clamber into the passenger section.

Inside the car, there were two rows of seats that faced each other. Mirajane settled into the ruby colored upholstery, relieved at how soft it was. It was heaven compared to the lumpy seats of the train. Lucy settled in next to her, and then Natsu next to Lucy. Gray and Erza sat across from them. Finally Ellis stepped inside and sat down, shutting the car door.

Immediately the roar of the wind and the sounds of the city were cut off, and replaced by the low purr of the engine.

"We're off," Ellis Vanunu said through a small window to the driver. As soon as the car began to pull out, he hit a glowing blue button and a sheet of plexiglass slid into the window, cutting them off from the driver.

"Why'd you do that?" Gray asked, throwing a puzzled look at their client.

"Confidentiality, Mr. Fullbuster," the man said, removing a folder from his coat. He flipped through its contents with mechanical precision as he continued, "Artisan operates on a need to know basis. That way, should any information we have prove to be…dangerous, a good driver like Mr. Stephenson here won't suffer the consequences."

That was plausible, and certainly good hearted of him. Something bothered Mirajane about the way he paused before he said dangerous.

The explanation almost made Gray forget what he was about to say, "Wait, how do you know my name?"

"You, all of you, are prominent members of a prominent guild," Ellis Vanunu responded smoothly, still sorting through his folder of papers, "It would be more surprising if I didn't know who you all were."

Finished with his folder, their employer set it down on his lap. They felt the car round a corner, and the dulled noises of the city began to grow louder. Sirens rang, and the wind was picking up. Ellis Vanunu folded his hands over the folder and sighed.

"Besides I make it a point of knowing who I employ for any job that requires any semblance of competence."

Then he handed out the papers to each one of them, looking each one of them in the eyes as he did so. They immediately began to flip through it, skimming the pages for vital information. It was When he reached Mirajane, he only had one packet left.

"You are not a usual member of Team Natsu, Mirajane Strauss," Ellis Vanunu gave her a guardedly curious look, "So I'll have to give you the original file. I was supposed to hang onto this, but I guess if you're successful it won't matter."

The packet he handed Mirajane began with a single full page picture of a man in a hooded cloak and a blank white mask. He could have been any age, or any race; every inch of his skin was covered. He was standing on a platform, looking out into a sea of people, his right hand raised and three fingers extended. Some in the crowd were responding to his salute in kind.

"This man is called the Ghost," Ellis Vanunu said, calling them all to attention, "He is the leader of a crime syndicate called Spectre, which has been stealing from Artisan for nearly fifty years. They are a group of murderers and thieves, who used to run a racketeering operation that encompassed the entire city of Caerleon. My predecessor managed to set them back monumentally, and they shrank to irrelevance. Now they are back on the rise, with ambitions to reclaim their former glory. I intend to crush those ambitions."

Mirajane listened as she flipped through the pages. The next one was a attempted profile of the Ghost; attempted because whoever put this together knew next to nothing about him. His gender and position in Spectre were about all they knew for certain.

"So you want us to get the Ghost?" Natsu asked, his packet discarded at his feet.

"Yes, but its not that simple," their client picked up Natsu's packet and pointed him to a relevant page, "You'll have to find the Ghost first. The only photographs we have of him were taken during rallies on the south side. That's where we suspect his base of operations is, since Specre nearly controls that whole section of the city but we have no way of knowing where it is exactly. But if we do manage to catch him, it will set Spectre back indefinitely, not to mention send a message."

"So it's a wild goose chase, essentially," Erza said, frowning at her packet, then at Ellis Vanunu, "How can we do what a company with resources like Artisan can't?"

"Well, I've heard Fairy Tail has an unorthodox approach to missions," their client tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, as though their 'unorthodox approach' wouldn't be as much of a boon as he thought it would be, "And you have surprise on your side. Artisan has sent a few agents undercover to infiltrate Spectre, but they have an uncanny ability to spot them. Our thinking is that you Fairy Tail mages won't show up on their radar, or if you do, it won't be in connection with Artisan."

"So can you clarify what exactly it is we're doing, please?" Lucy asked apologetically. A lapse in her attention had gotten her completely lost in the conversation.

"Your mission is to determine the location of the Ghost and either capture him, or relay his location to an Artisan agent. To do this, you'll have to go to the south side. From there it's really up to you how to proceed, but you cannot mention any connection to Artisan, or you won't get anywhere close to the Ghost."

"How should we begin our search? Finding members of Spectre?" Erza too had put her packet away, "And we'll need some gold since we _somehow_ managed to spend almost all of ours."

Natsu and Gray tried not to react to the jab, but both of their knees started shaking.

"Of course, money is not a question," Ellis Vanunu sighed as he looked out the window, then checked his pocket watch, "And on the mater of finding members of Spectre…"

He took Erza's packet off the floor and turned near the back. There was a series of photographs of a huge brute of a man. He pointed to one side profile of the man's head. Above his ear three thick black lines were tattooed into his skin.

"…you see these three marks? All members of Spectre have this tattooed on their body, usually someplace visible, but easily hidden. Ah, it seems we've arrived."

They had arrived at a small, run down looking building, squashed between two gigantic complexes. It was made of brick and mortar, unlike the A glowing sign that 'Artisan' hung over the doorway. In this part of town, practically no one was on the streets; the only ones moving about were people in lab coats and business suits.

"If you need anything else, look in your packets. Go inside that building and our agent there will give your gold and further instructions," Ellis Vanunu looked at them all, and seemed to be in his head working out their chances of success, "I expect to hear word back from you in a week. If you haven't made progress by then, I advise you to give up."

* * *

><p>"That Ellis Vanunu guy was such a prick," Natsu loudly complained as they waited in the small brick building, "and his hair was way too spiky."<p>

Lucy nodded her head in agreement and the two began to go on a tirade of the prickliness of Ellis Vanunu, while Happy proceeded to eat some (all) of the snacks Natsu had packed in his bag. Gray and Erza were looking more in depth at the packet on the Ghost, discussing at length how they planned to go about the mission.

Mirajane sat by herself.

This was what Mirajane had been afraid of; she was just an accessory to Team Natsu. Everyone at Fairy Tail were good friends with everyone else, but it was only natural that more closely knit circles would emerge. The Raijinshu, Team Shadow Gear, they were all the best of friends. They had a certain chemistry that made Mirajane a little envious.

Come to think of it, Mirajane hadn't ever really been terribly close with her peers; back when she was active, she only went on missions with her siblings. Maybe it was because she hadn't really known quite how to make friends back then.

"I need to get my mind off this," Mirajane whispered to herself, turning her attention to the room they were in.

When they entered the door, Mirajane had half expected to see some unfittingly advanced, metallic building, that went stories underground, and bellied the outer appearance of the building. Instead, it was a fitting small, and musty room, with a series of chairs in a waiting room and a curtained doorway that led on to who-knows-where.

Mirajane sat in the middle of the room, Gray and Erza in one of the corners, and Natsu, Lucy and Happy at the room's only window. Maybe she preferred to be alone, Mirajane thought for a second, but immediately dismissed the thought. This feeling wasn't something she liked, but something of an unplaceable ache that told her something was wrong.

Even after she changed, her kindness hadn't solved anything. She felt closer to everyone, but the ache persisted; she still hadn't gotten what she wanted. That Mirajane supposed was part of the problem; what did she want? For the longest time she thought it was to have Lisanna back, but now she was back, and Mirajane felt even worse.

"Mira?"

The voice snapped Mirajane back to her surrounding. It was Erza, now seated next to her. Gray had gone over to join Lucy and Natsu's rant on their client.

"There's something wrong," Erza stated simply. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Mirajane replied hesitantly, unable to meet Erza's gaze, "there is."

Erza nodded, continuing carefully.

"But you don't want to talk about it."

"It's n—"

"And you don't have to want to," Erza plowed right through Mirajane's sentence, "Just let me say something Mira."

Mirajane dutifully closed her mouth and was silent. Erza searched her eyes with a strange sort of plea.

"I'm not going to claim that I understand what you're going through, but I've lost someone close to me, too," Erza looked away for a second and she seemed to be in another place, "and even after I came to terms with it, I didn't really know what to do with myself."

Mirajane nodded Erza frowned, as though scrambling to find a way to phrase her thoughts. Finally, her expression cleared, and she gave Mirajane a strange look; her eyes held so much hope, not just for Mirajane, but also for herself, and it drew Mirajane in. Now she was awaiting Erza's next sentence with something close to rapture.

"You just need to live a little."

"Live…" Mirajane repeated, her blue eyes wide and her mouth open. Something about that had stirred her. Something about that simple sentence and left her completely stricken. She didn't even notice the movement in the room and Erza getting up. She must've looked like a fool sitting there, staring into space.

_You just need to live a little…_

With that sentence still spinning around in her head, Mirajane turned to see why everyone was gathering.

"Y'all the next set of wizards?" the new, coarse voice rang throughout the small room, almost visibly disturbing the dust. The owner of the voice was a large, similarly coarse woman. Her bleached hair was dreaded and drawn back into a massive ponytail. Her pale features were drawn into a heavily wrinkled frown as she looked down on the Fairy Tail mages.

"Merlin, you wizard types just get younger and younger," she shook her head, then disappeared into the back room. When she came back she was holding a large bin of clothes. As the Fairy Tail mages gathered around the table she began to lay them out on the table.

"Name's Hilda," the woman had a strange canter to her voice that was slightly exotic, and pulsated around her words like the tides, "I'll be outfitting you for your silly little mission."

"Outfitting?" Natsu asked, eyeing a khaki vest with suspicion, "What do we need outfitting for?"

The woman gave a laugh at this and shook her head. She was still unpacking clothes. Her hands we large and looked rough, but her fingers move the clothes with incredible dexterity. She folded them with a preciseness and efficiency that only a mother could have.

"You need to be outfitted because you can't go around the south side of Caerleon looking like mages. Especially if you want to go undercover," she shook her head again, "One of you is wearing armor for Merlin's sake."

Mirajane was a bit disappointed, because she rather liked her red dress. Everyone else was taking it a little worse, Mirajane noted. Erza blushed, and brushed at her armor, like it was there against her will. Gray picked at his coat too, and Lucy was glowering at her jacket. Natsu, however, was enflamed.

"What's wrong with our clothes, huh?" Natsu rewrapped his scarf closer around his neck, and crossed his arms.

Hilda's eyes softened, and she for a moment the sadness in her eyes met her age, "I'm not saying that, wizard boy, I'm only saying you look like you're not from around here, that's all."

Natsu de-huffed at this, and almost seemed embarrassed. He scratched at his cheek, murmuring an apology.

"There's are changing rooms in the back. If you need help with fitting, come talk to me."

She had emptied the bin, and placed it on the ground. Now splayed out on the table was an entire wardrobe of blacks, purples and everything in between. With that, she went over to a corner of the room by the window, sat down in one of the chairs and proceeded to light a pipe.

Mirajane instantly saw an outfit that called out to her. She snatched it off the tabletop and threw a smile over her shoulder as she ran to the first changing room.

The changing room was cramped, with only a flickering little light overhead to see by. There was a mirror on the door, but it was almost too close for Mirajane to see her entire body. She hung her outfit on the hangar and began to change.

The pants she'd picked out were skin tight, but probably the most comfortable pants she'd ever worn in her life; they were grey and felt like denim, but were soft on the inside. Tacky sequencing ran down the sides of the legs, and they were patched in a few places. Her shirt was a plain navy blue long sleeve, and over it she wore simple black vest. Finally, she pulled on a pair of short black boots that had a few too many buckles for her to wear normally.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and turned around. She hummed in satisfaction and went back to the main room. No one else was done changing. Hilda was still there, staring at the storm through the window. Her grey eyes were distant, and she smoked on the pipe with the mechanical movements of a life long smoker. When she noticed Mirajane she put her pipe down.

"Well look at you, hun," Hilda leaned forward and laughed, a strangely bittersweet sound. She had a beautifully old smile, Mirajane thought. "Those clothes suit you. Except that vest is a little…come here, hun."

Mirajane stepped forward and Hilda ran her large hands over the vest and found a little tab on the side. The old woman gave it a little tug, and the vest became a little tighter. Finally with a twist she removed the top and bottom buttons of the vest, once again allowing Mirajane to breathe. Hilda looked satisfied at the change.

"You really are a beautiful little girl.." Hilda trailed off and closed her eyes. She picked up her pipe back up and took a long drag, "How old are you, seventeen?"

"Nineteen," Mirajane corrected.

"Just as well. Everyone's too young to be on these streets," Hilda shook her head, and reached into her pocket for more tobacco for her pipe, "All of you are much too young to be chasing after the damned Ghost."

"I'm sure we can handle it," Mirajane smiled, sitting down across from Hilda, "We're mages after all, we've been in some pretty danger situations before and made it out."

"Can't no magic find the Ghost," Hilda gave another one of her bittersweet laughs, "Caerleon is some kind of danger no one's prepared for. Merlin, I'd hate to see you kids get hurt."

Hilda was looking out the window again, and had forgotten to relight her pipe. There was a strange sadness that came from her that Mirajane could almost feel, like a tingling at the bottom of her heart. She wondered what Hilda's story was.

"A lot of other mages have come by, you know that? All of them trying to find the Ghost, and ain't none of them gotten him."

"Mr. Vanunu mention he'd sent other agents undercover," Mirajane said, frowning, "but he didn't say they were other mages."

"Vanunu's a fiend for success, plain and simple," Hilda still was looking out the window. The sun was setting, setting the grey storm clouds ablaze with muted yellows and oranges, "O'course he won't tell you anything he thinks wouldn't help you do what he wants. Even if it could save your damn lives."

"What wouldn't he have told us, Mrs. Hilda?"

"Just Hilda. I ain't been no Ms. or Mrs. in thirty years. The things, girlie, he didn't tell you was, first, that they want the Ghost dead. The second was that Spectre has people in Artisan, had them there since the old days when they were terrorizing the city."

Mirajane eyes went wide as she processed this. Capturing someone was one thing, but killing them. No legal guild practiced assassinations without express clearance from the Magic Council. Handing someone over to be killed was within what they could do, but not by much. But then again, Ellis Vanunu had told them that the Ghost was a killer, and led an entire syndicate of killers.

"But the Ghost is a murderer," Mirajane said, almost cautiously, "Maybe the city would be bette off without him and Spectre."

Hilda was unreadable, her gray eyes looking just past Mirajane, "Would it?"

Mirajane frowned at this and was about to ask Hilda what she meant, but the curtain that lead to the back room rustled and the rest of Team Natsu burst through.

"Why is this shirt so goddamn itchy?"

Everyone else was done changing. And Natsu's shirt was itchy.

Gray wore a pair of creased brown pants and a dark red t-shirt and a huge navy blue, fur lined coat. To top it off, the ice mage had found a matching navy fedora. Natsu, despite his trepidation, had donned the khaki vest with a black thermal shirt underneath and worn out white pants. He had kept his sandals and scarf.

Lucy wore a polka dotted black and blue skirt with a tight, low cut black sweater. Her keys jingled from inside her handbag. Erza had opted for a slightly more risqué look, with a pair of short shorts and fishnet stockings and and a see-through long sleeve. Her boots had just enough heel make them sexy.

"Well good job on picking clothes that fit you," Hilda said, heaving herself up and inspecting the newcomers. She preformed a few minor operations on all of them like she had to Mirajane. When she was done, she put her hands on her hips and nodded, "Y'all look good. But more importantly, y'all look like you're not mages. Just don't talk too much."

"What now?" Gray asked, tipping his fedora to Hilda with a decidedly smug grin.

"God know how long he's been waiting to do that," Lucy whispered to Mirajane, just loud enough so Gray could hear. The ice mage bristled, but Hilda plowed over the conflict.

"_Now_ you mages go to the next stage of your mission, and get out of my hair," Hilda said, giving each one of them a little appraising grin. It shrank as she turned to look out the door, "There'll be a bus out there that'll take you over the bridge onto south side. From there you'll want to start at any inn, 'cause Spectre probably owns every single one of them."

Hilda disappeared into back room for a minute, reappearing with a little purse. She seemed to debate over who to hand it too, finally settling on Erza.

"Here's your gold. It's more than enough to buy a room and some food for weeks, just don't go showing out, or you might find your purse slit."

Hilda looked them all over again, and shook her head. Her pipe was once a gain back in her hands, and she lit it with shaking hands, "Y'all are much too damned _young_."

Soon the headlights of the bus glared through the window at them through the door. Everyone thanked Hilda for her help, and the old woman accepted it gruffly. They opened the door and filed out, with Natsu in lead, and Mirajane taking up the back. But before Mirajane could cross the door, she felt a large hand grab her own.

"Wait," Hilda said. Her gray eyes searched Mirajane's for something, and apparently she found it. She pressed an ancient looking envelope into her hands, "Hold onto this, and if you find the Ghost, give this to him."

That's when Mirajane saw it; on the left side of Hilda's collarbone, disappearing into her shirt, was the edge of a thick black stripe.

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(South Side)

After nearly bankrupting itself for ten years trying to police the south side, Caerleon City's summarily gave up. As a result, the word of syndicates like Spectre and the Coballition is the only legislature. Here, in the underbelly of the city nothing happens without the knowledge and permission of a local gang lord.

* * *

><p>The bus plowed ahead through the wind, but the old vehicle seemed to be shaking apart at the hinges. There was a constant metallic rattling and scraping that made Mirajane wince. The seats were all moth-eaten and smelled like smoke. The engine sputtered endlessly, and getting to their destination without it dying seemed dubious to Mirajane.<p>

The city aged as they got closer to the heart of the south side. The once steel and blue glass buildings were cut together with huge slabs of concrete and bricks and spaced erratically. But high tech lights lit the main streets, and some buildings had exposed wires, making the whole section of the city seem a strange marriage of the old and new.

The only other passengers besides Team Natsu were a few middle aged men dressed in a soot covered uniforms. Somehow, one of them was sleeping through the noise of the bus.

Hilda's words were weighing down Mirajane's mind.

_They want the Ghost dead._

How would she tell everyone else? She had to, that much she'd figured out. But how would they react. Even if handing the Ghost over to his death gave Mirajane pause, maybe the others wouldn't think that; maybe they would see it was a necessary sacrifice, not only to complete the mission but to have a killer answer for his crimes.

And maybe it was the right thing to do, but Mirajane couldn't do it, not for anything.

All this thinking and the terrible noise of the train was making her head hurt. As soon as they got to the inn, Mirajane was going to get a few drinks in her then go to bed. And as the bus ride went on, she found some liquor and a warm bed were all she could think about, and wanted she them with the entirety being.

Maybe, Mirajane thought, it was best to stop thinking for a while.

* * *

><p>The inn they decided on was called the Cobalt Cave, but was more of a nightclub than an inn. Moody blue lights illuminated the walls, which were made out of a strange stone flecked with luminous blue shards. The bar was in the very back of the room, and a spiral staircase was set into another wall close to them.<p>

The bartender, a young woman, eyed them as they entered, but other than that, they looked like any other set of travelers. It was almost midnight, and the crowds were beginning to thin. A few of the heavy drinkers were just getting started though, and among them was a group of men, all in the same soot covered uniforms that they had seen the men on the bus wearing.

"We'll start our mission in the morning," Erza said, stretching and yawning, "Getting here just took it out of me."

"Yeah I'm beat let's get the Ghost in the morning," Natsu said wearily, his face still a little green; the bus ride had been murder on his motion sickness.

Lucy was practically falling asleep standing up.

"Let's just go pay for our rooms now," Gray agreed.

"You guys go, I think I'm going to get a drink," Mirajane said ignoring their looks of concern and started towards the bar, "I'll catch up with you guys in the morning."

"Be careful Mira," Erza called after her, but Mirajane didn't look back and kept walking. Suddenly their concern for her was much too overbearing, and actually annoyed her.

Be careful? The only danger she would be in would be getting hit on by some drunk guy. As she walked, she felt the eyes of almost every man in the bar glance at her. It didn't even phase her anymore; ever since she was fourteen she had been getting these looks. While she never went out of her way to flaunt it, Mirajane knew that hers was a beauty that drew the eye.

Beauty enough, she would think, to have found a boyfriend or brought some type of love interest her way. Sure she'd had many a man express interest in getting to know her, but Mirajane would be hard pressed to remember any of them that she had also wanted to get to know.

Mirajane sighed heavily as she reached the bar.

Drink now. Think later.

At the bar the only other person at the bar was a traveler. He wore a hooded cloak that obscured his face, and nursed a large mug of ale. Mirajane sat down a seat away from him, but he didn't even notice her.

The barkeep, the same one who had been eyeing them earlier, was cleaning glasses when Mirajane went to order. She was young woman, a little older than Mirajane, with curly blonde hair tied back with a white rag. Her face was dotted with freckles, and she had a small, gossipy mouth.

"What can I do you for?" she asked, not looking up from her glass.

"What do you serve around here?" Mirajane leaned heavily on her elbow, her eyes flitting over the mixers behind the barkeep.

"A traveler, huh?" This seemed to get the girl's attention, and she turned her cobalt blue eyes to Mirajane, "We got some Fire Brandy and guava juice that'd put a dragon on its ass for days."

"I'll take it," Mirajane responded immediately, fishing out the appropriate amount of gold from her own purse and setting it on the counter. The barkeep scooped it up, then proceeded to start mixing Mirajane's drink.

"So how come you're in town? I'm Sarah by the way," the barkeep, Sarah, asked as she poured the Fire Brandy. As soon as it hit the juice it turned a deep, cobalt blue. She put the mix in a tall glass and set it down in front of Mirajane, who took a greedy swig. It burned all the way down to her stomach and she let loose a deeply satisfied sigh. Then she remembered Sarah had asked her a question

"I'm here," maybe it was the Fire Brandy, or how tired she was, because she couldn't stop the words tumbling past he lips, "I'm here to find the Ghost."

"Are you now?" Sarah's eyes lit up at this, much to Mirajane's confusion, "Your upper-crust boys ain't romping you good enough, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Mirajane thought she had heard right, but that second gulp of Fire Brandy had hit her pretty hard.

"We're both girls you can be straight with me," Sarah's small mouth was twisted into a sly smile, "Why else would a north side girl like you be down here? I don't blame you though, if some of what the girls that work here say."

"No, no I'm here to catch him because…because," her tongue was officially moving slower than it was a few minutes ago. This Fire Brandy was no joke, "He's bad guy and killer."

Sarah actually laughed at this; it was a high, pitchy laugh.

"I've heard he's a killer between the sheets, too," Sarah said, laughing and going back to polishing some glasses. The cloaked traveler had coughed as she said it.

With one last gulp Mirajane drained the rest of her drink. She could feel it swishing around in her stomach, warming her up. This would make her sleep much deeper, and a hell of a lot quieter. Mirajane stood, thankfully with her sense of balance intact.

"Hey what you doin', honey, leavin' so damn early?"

The voice was slurred with the precision of a well practiced alcoholic. He was from one of the high tables in the regulars' section. He was goliath of a man, rippling with muscles and scrawling tattoos in a tight fitting wife beater and tight pants. His head was covered in wrapping, with tufts of blue hair sticking out erratically. His eyes were bloodshot and cobalt blue.

Behind was a group of men with similar looks, and strangely the same cobalt eyes.

"It's a little late for me," Mirajane said, giving a shaky smile. Maybe she could placate him long enough to get to rooms. But most likely she would have to come right out and say she wasn't interested, and the Fire Brandy in her stomach wasn't going to let her say it nicely.

"It ain't late, ma," He strode up to her, swinging his arms in tune with the jeering from his goons, "Damn you gotta fine body, girl. I ain't seen a booty like that in years. See my name's Jezebel, I run shit around here. I can give you a lifestyle a north side girlie like you can only dream of. "

Mirajane took a step back to preserve her personal space, carefully judging how many steps it would take her to get to the stairs, "You sure know how to charm a girl…"

"O'course I do, honey," he stepped even closer, and put his face down into Mirajane's and whispered. The smell of a night's worth of ale washed over her,"Listen how bout you and me skate outta here, ma. I know a place where we can get…acquainted."

"I'm sorry, but I have some friends I need to get back to," Mirajane responded quickly, a sour look probably on her face as she darted towards the stairway. She thought she was going to get away, but suddenly her arm was caught, and she was jerked back to Jezebel, much closer than before.

He reached his arms around her, crushing her body into his with one and squeezing her ass with the other, "Where do you think you're going, ma? I ain't finished with you yet. "

Suddenly something was set off inside her. Maybe it was the Fire Brandy, or the thoughts that had been eating away at her for the last few months, but Mirajane Strauss had had enough.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Mirajane shouted, her evil magic power coming to life in a purple flash. The surge of power threw Jezebel back and into a table with a loud crash. His table of goons were staring at her in complete shock. The entire bar was now looking at her.

So much for undercover work.

"Oh so you wanna fuck around with magic, huh?" Jezebel was rising to his feet. As Mirajane watched, his tightly curled fists began to glow with red magic. This was bad, and getting worse by the second. A magical fight here would completely blow her cover, if it wasn't blown already.

Jezebel's entire arms were now sparking with red magic, and his eyes promised murder. He was muttering to himself as he walked, "Trying to be nice, and all I get is rude…this bitch's gonna need a hospital when I'm done fucking her.."

And then we was moving faster than Mirajane would've thought possible. In an instant he had crossed the distance between them, his huge fist cocked back. It was probably some kind of movement magic. That or the Fire Brandy was finally doing what the barkeep had said it would. Either way this was going to hurt.

As she closed her eyes, the last thing she saw was a blur of movement between them; seconds passed, but no blow came.

Slowly, Mirajane opened her eyes.

Now standing between them was the cloaked traveler, holding the huge man's fist back with a single hand. The traveler wasn't even a head taller than Mirajane, and even in the cloak didn't look half as big as Jezebel. Slowly, to Mirajane's shock, the red magic that had been gathering around Jezebel's arms was fading.

"You need to calm down," the traveler said lowly, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, but Mirajane felt the tightly coiled threat behind it. Jezebel didn't seem to.

"You need to mind your own business, midget," Jezebel said, and tried to reactivate his magic, but it died just as quickly as it had before. The huge man's cobalt eyes widened and he tried to take his fist back but the traveler held it tightly, "W-who the hell are you?"

The traveler gave a hoarse laugh at this, and jerked Jezebel close enough to see his face under the hood. Mirajane saw his eyes go even wider, and his face paled, "You, wha—"

But he never finished, because the traveler slammed his other fist into Jezebel's chest, sending him flying into the bar. Broken glass and spilled liquor rained down on him. The entire bar went silent. The traveler looked at his handiwork for a second, then turned to Mirajane, and began ushering her towards the door.

"We need to leave," he growled, placing his hand on Mirajane's lower back and guiding her through the crowd.

The stairs to the rooms were now all the way across the room,"But my fri—"

"No, no 'buts'." And that was the end of that.

Once they were at the door, the he scooped up a cloak that obviously wasn't his and put it around her shoulders and fastening the clip in one flowing movement. Up close he smelled kind of stale, like he'd been days on the road. There was a crash behind them and a wailing roar of pain.

The traveler laughed as he quickly and deftly fastened the clasp of her stolen cloak, "You sure know how to pick 'em, princess."

"Believe me, I didn't pick him at all," Mirajane responded, but that only made him laugh more.

Mirajane couldn't see his face in the hood of his cloak, even when he was right in front of her. Once he was done with her cloak he drew his tighter around himself and grabbed her hand, pulling both of them out into Caerleon City.

* * *

><p>The rain that had been holding off all day was finally coming, and coming down with a vengeance. The traveler had them both at a run, dodging through traffic until they got to the other side of the street. He didn't look back once as he took off at a dead sprint, practically dragging Mirajane along with him. After a block they came to a narrow alley, and he tugged her in with him.<p>

Mirajane fought to catch her breath hands on knees, but her savior seemed to be at complete ease, leaning up against the building.

"Jezebel Lawrence is the head of a gang called the Coballition," he said as he waited for her to regain her breath. The hoarseness was disappearing from his voice, replaced by a strange canter that made him easy to be heard over the roar of the rain, "They run this part of town, and that dive, the Cobalt Cave is their hangout. No one from around here would go in there and do what you did."

Mirajane just stared up at him, still to winded to speak, with a look in her eyes that said 'So?'

He obviously picked up on it, "You must not be from around here, is what I'm saying."

Mirajane noticed he had a similar accent to Hilda's, but it was less pronounced; the way he accented his words rose and fell like Hilda's, but it was very hard to notice if she weren't listening for it.

"Let's go."

He reached into the shadows and took hold of a rope ladder that Mirajane hadn't even seen. The other end was at the top of the adjacent building, almost a story and a half above their heads. The thing looked ages old, and was frayed in places. He offered the old ladder to Mirajane. She looked at him incredulously.

"You want me to go up first?"

She heard him cluck his tongue impatiently from within his hood, "Who's going to catch you if you fall? Now let's go, before Jezebel's men catch up to us."

Mirajane sighed as she began to climb the rickety ladder. Already she was finding it hard to justify the situation she was in; on the run from a gang with a mysterious stranger, while she was supposed to be on a mission. She felt the ladder shake as the traveler joined her in the climb. She reached the top of the building, despite the death trap of a ladder.

The view blew her away.

The entirety of the south side sprawled before her eyes. All the buildings were around the same height, connected by little wooden board bridges and she could see all the way to the river at one side, and the city limits at the other. The rain gave all the lights of the city a blurry corona, and came down sounding like the applause of ten thousand people.

_You just need to live a little. _

The rain beat down on her and she turned towards the heavens, and opened her mouth as though she was going to inhale the storm. The rain tasted like acid, metal and smoke, but it was strangely satisfying. Even with the cloak, she was soaked all the way through; she was shivering, and goosebumps ran over her entire body, and in that moment, she felt more alive than she had in two years.

She saw out of the corner of her eyes the traveler had joined her. He held out cupped hand, and caught some rain, and let it fall.

"We haven't had a good rain in too long," he said, almost to himself, and looking around him. Finally he seemed to orient himself, and pointed west, "This way."

He began to jog, crossing over a shaking piece of wood that connected this building to the next. Mirajane followed him, but took her time. They continued on like this, him silently leading her in a winding path towards their destination. He moved with complete assurance, as though running along buildings was a regular thing for him (as far a Mirajane knew, it could very well be).

Falling seemed to be a thought that never crossed his mind as something that could happen to him.

Eventually, they reached a building that didn't have a wooden bridge to walk over. While the other gaps had only a couple feet, this one was nearly five feet across. The traveler stopped, as did Mirajane. She looked to him expecting him to say that they would just go around, or climb down.

"We'll have to jump it," he said simply.

"Jump it?" Mirajane was beginning to doubt her savior, who had shown passable judgement up until this point.

"Whoever laid thee bridges down did it before this building was built," he said as he backed up, almost to the other end of the rooftop, "So no boards will connect it from anywhere."

He began to run, picking up speed as he reached the edge and jumped; he flew through the rain for a second, then landed with a slight bend of his knees. Even when she was in top form, Mirajane doubted she could match that athleticism. Now, two years out of practice, she was sure she couldn't.

"I don't think I'm going to make it," she called across the gap.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you if fall," he called back with a laugh.

It definitely was not the time to be laughing, Mirajane thought angrily.

She quashed her inhibitions (with a little help from the Fire Brandy), and began to run in the same manner he had. She gathered speed until the rain was blurring the world around her, and she was at the jump. Maybe it was the lack of practice and maybe it was the rain, but the next thing Mirajane knew, she had slipped.

She was falling.

She felt her world turn and she was now looking up at the black clouds, and the rain was splattering all over her face. Then there was a shadow that crossed the gap, and a rustle of a cloak being whipped about in the wind. Her descent suddenly jerked to a stop.

Below her was the traveler, now having saved he for the second time. His hand and feet were bracing his entire body and Mirajane against the wall, suspending them twenty feet off the ground. His other hand secured Mirajane too him, keeping her from moving at all. His body was stretched, and she felt his core quivering with the effort of keeping them both in this position.

"Told you I'd catch you, princess," he said. Mirajane looked up, and she couldn't stop a noise of surprise from escaping her mouth.

His hood had fallen back.

The traveler was a young man, no older than Mirajane. His skin was a few shade darker than hers, with a head of long unruly sandy blonde curls that were in need of a cut. His chin was covered in stubble, like he hadn't shaved in days. A linear pale scar ran from his neck, through his lips to right below his left eye. He had thick lashes, that framed a pair of strange eyes; they were simply pale, like witch's eyes. As she looked, she though they could have been tinted blue, gray or even green, but they were almost the same white as the rest of his eyes.

He cracked her a sinister little smile that made his scar look quite threatening, "You're a damn fucking handful, you know that?"

Mirajane didn't respond. Minutes passed, and as the rain fell on them, Mirajane realized that her savior didn't even know her name, and she didn't know his. He seemed to read her mind.

"What's your name, princess?"

"Mirajane," she said, meeting his curious gaze. Heat was now seeping from his core into hers through their rain soaked clothes. To Mirajane it suddenly seemed they were far too close.

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something else, but seemed to think better of it, "I'm Kalan."

Mirajane found that she could't win their little stare down, and let her gaze fall, to his chin and then down to his neck. She took a sharp breath; there it was, on the side of his neck, as though the situation she found herself in couldn't get more complicated…

…three black stripes, tattooed into his skin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Oh. Oh damn. Is that a cliffhanger? Sorry, but it had to be cut off somewhere, and this was a surprisingly satisfying ending.

Drop a review if ya liked, or even if you didn't telling me what didn't work for you.

Until next time,

SA


	3. Spectral Eves

A/N: Been a minute since I posted, but hey, it's here. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

Spectral Eves

* * *

><p><em>…you see these three marks?<em>

"Hold onto me, princess."

Mirajane obliged, still much too shocked to wonder why. She glanced back at his neck, hoping desperately she'd imagined the three black stripes. But no, they were still there, as real as their owner, who was scowling as he tried to figure out what to do next.

Kalan, he'd said his name was.

His pale eyes swiveled around the alley, and Mirajane could practically see him working out a plan. He really had strange eyes, she thought. They made him seem unearthly, like some kind of spirit. She watched as he seemed to decide on a course of action, causing a smile to blossom on his face. His smile curved that vicious looking scar, making his whole face look unfittingly ominous.

His whole countenance was odds with itself.

Her eyes drifted, almost against her will, back to his neck and those three self-incriminating black lines.

_All members of Spectre have this tattooed on their body…_

"Tighter," he said shaking her a little when she didn't respond. Mirajane nodded and dutifully tightened their her hold on him, much tighter she was sure than was strictly necessary. With her now secured to him, he let his other arm drop, and he fished around in his pocket for a few seconds, finally pulling out a dagger.

"Still holding on?" he asked as he switched his grip on the tiny weapon, preparing for god-knows-what to get them down from the precarious position they were in.

"Of course I am," Mirajane said in exasperation, her lack of sleep suddenly turning her cranky.

His smile this time was different; it mirrored her annoyance, "Good."

Then he let them fall.

Mirajane screamed, and wrapped her legs and arms around Kalan in a death hold. She could have sworn she heard him laughing again, but the sound was taken by the rushing air around them. They hadn't even been falling for a second when he plunged the dagger into the building next to them immediately halting their descent. They jerked to a stop a few feet from the ground.

Kalan growled in pain, and unceremoniously let go of the dagger, landing easily on his feet, while Mirajane fell flat on her ass. She stood up, and in a rare moment of anger (which were slowly becoming less and less rare in this man's presence), jabbed her finger into his chest.

"What the hell was that for?" she hissed.

Kalan wasn't intimidated. In fact, he leaned even closer, until he was nose to nose with Mirajane. His eyes lanced into hers, searching for some type of reaction. He was testing her, Mirajane realized. In response, she drew herself up, and stared right back at him. It seemed like forever that he glared at her, until finally he must have decided she passed because he broke the contact.

"Attitude, for one," he said with a smirk, then turned away, pulling his hood back up and striding out of the alley. Mirajane rolled her eyes, then jogged to catch up with him.

"We're close enough to walk, just make sure you stay close to me," he said once she'd reached him. He began to walk, this time without taking her hand. For some reason, Mirajane found herself slightly disappointed, but she took off after him all the same.

The two of them weaved through the loosely connected groups that were straggling out of the bars. They gravitated towards the center of each group, brushing through but never causing too much of a commotion. When no one was around they clung to the shadows at the bases of the buildings, and only went out into the bright mechanical light of the street lamps when they needed to cross over to another street.

Like on the rooftops, Kalan seemed right at home slinking through the streets and moving through the night. He was never at a loss of where to go, some assurance of years of practice allowing him to keep from slowing down at all. For the third time, Mirajane's thoughts strayed to the tattoos on his neck. He was a member of Spectre; he probably did stuff like this on a regular basis.

The rain that had been drenching them before was now coming down in a light misty drizzle. It was far too late though, because Mirajane was already soaked down to her skin. Her feet ached from all the running they'd done, and her lungs burned from polluted city air.

"Kalan," she called, his name feeling strange on her tongue. They had been walking along next to what looked like an abandoned building. He stopped at the corner and looked back at her. Strangely, now she could see his face in his hood, "How much longer until we get wherever we're going?"

"Tired, princess?" a smile began to form on his face, but it fell off. He looked away and sighed, "I am too…but we're here."

He pointed across the street to a rather large building, much bigger than those around it. Even in the early morning, the lights were blazing. It was made of bricks, but brilliantly polished steel peeked through where they fell out. There was no sign anywhere on the building to suggest what it was, or what was going on inside. The entrance was guarded by two huge men in black and white pin striped suits.

"Home," Kalan muttered, then rounded the corner, leading them away from the front entrance. Mirajane followed in confusion. Soon they reached the back of the building, and he crossed the street quickly. There was an old creaky fire escape that led up all the way up to the roof. Kalan only took it to the first floor, where there was an unused door.

Mirajane watched as he produced another dagger, this one with a thinner blade, and jammed it into the lock. He jiggled it around with precision until in a few seconds, there was a snap and the bolts came undone. She stared at him, "Why do you need to break in if you live here?"

"Forgot my key," he said without looking at her, making no effort to conceal the lie. With a shove, he opened the door and held it open for Mirajane with his foot. After she was inside, he closed the door back, making sure it looked like it had before. "Make sure you be quiet."

They were in a dimly lit hallway, with rooms on each side, all with numbers printed on their closed doors. It looked like a typical apartment complex. Kalan turned to her, and put a finger to his lips. He stalked down the hallway, walking only on the balls of his feet.

Mirajane mimicked him, with mild success until she hit a bump in the floor and nearly fell over. Only Kalan's well timed hand on her shoulder kept her from falling. She was about to thank him, until she looked up and saw his little shit-eating grin, and then she was about to snap on him like she had on Jezebel.

Kalan must've sensed the change, because as soon as she opened her mouth, his hand was over it and she was up against the wall. Mirajane could do nothing but stare into his pale eyes.

"I said be _quiet,_" he whispered. Mirajane nodded quickly, and he let her go. Putting his finger to his lips for good measure, he continued on to the stairs.

They took it all the way up to the top floor, and the next hallway they entered only had one room. The door had no number on it, only the word 'Baade' in stylized letters. The door was red with peeling paint, but looked nicer than the other doors in the complex. Kalan walked over to it, and gave it the same treatment as the door outside. After he jiggled the lock open, he swung the door open.

"Welcome to the Baade residence," Kalan said, flicking a light switch.

Inside was one of the nicest apartments Mirajane had ever seen. It was something of a penthouse, with a huge skylight and a spacious living area. A sofa and love seat were all in the center on a red carpet. The floor was wooden, and in the back it rose up into a little kitchenette area. A sliding door in the back led out onto a balcony. There were a few doors leading to other rooms in the penthouse.

Kalan disappeared into one of these rooms, leaving Mirajane standing alone in the doorway. Was this where he lived? The rent was probably twice what Mirajane paid for her apartment back in Magnolia. The walls though were blank, making the whole place seem very impersonal.

She heard some drawers slamming shut, and Kalan was back. He tossed her a bundle of clothes, "Here are some dry clothes. You can get changed in that bathroom over there, and put your wet clothes in the hamper. Turn off the lights when you're done, and don't wake me up unless your _life_ is in danger."

"Where am I going to sleep?" Mirajane asked looking around for another bed.

"On the couch," he snapped, "where else?"

With that he shut the door to what she assumed was his bedroom, and she saw the light go out from underneath the door.

"Well then," Mirajane whispered to herself, and proceeded to the bathroom. It, like the rest of the apartment was spacious, with a full bath and a separate shower. There was a huge floor to ceiling mirror on one of the walls. Gingerly, she peeled off the rain soaked clothes and dropped them in a canvas hamper by the sink.

She picked up a towel to dry herself off, but was caught by a little fit of curiosity. She brought it up to her nose, expecting it to smell like Kalan (whatever that smelled like), but instead it only smelled like detergent. She half shrugged, dried herself off, and pulled on the clothes Kalan had gotten her. She was wearing a pair his old athletic shorts and a lose tank top. At least they were dry.

She closed the door to the bathroom and took a final look around Kalan's apartment before she turned off the lights. Ambient light from the skylight lead her back to the couch. Draped across the back was a thick blanket. Mirajane pulled it off, and wrapped it tightly around her body as she lay down.

The couch was plush, but anything would be when Mirajane was as tired as she was. Her entire day seemed to crash into her as soon as she lie down, and the Demon of Fairy Tail heaved a great sigh. She was in the home of a member of Spectre, the organization she was here to help take down, who for some reason had decided to save her from another gang.

The world was fond of making her life complex, Mirajane thought as she drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(North Side)

The north side of Caerleon city is home to the big movers and shakers, the upper crust of Caerleon's business owners. The most notable location, however, is the headquarters of the corporate giant Artisan. This section of the city has been rated in the top ten nicest places to live in Fiore by Sorcerer's Magazine for the past seven years, but recently rising crime rates throughout the city threaten this status.

* * *

><p>Ellis Vanunu was a careful man by nature, but a bold man by profession. It was because of this, his heart quivered with excitement and fear whenever he made a decision for his company. Hiring mages to find the Ghost had definitely been one his gutsier moves as regional manager.<p>

That hadn't prevented him, however, from taking a careful approach.

He hadn't for a second believed that hiring mages would have the Ghost sitting in his office with in a week. The Fairy Tail group certainly hadn't been the first set of mages he sent undercover and certainly wasn't going to be the last. Maybe one could succeed where another failed, and eventually from a series of failures, one group would have enough information to finally catch up to the Ghost.

He was hedging his bets, in other words.

"A bird in the hand," he murmured to himself. He was currently on his way to debrief another group of mages. This time, though, they were a group of dark mages. It technically wasn't illegal to employ them, so Ellis Vanunu had no problem with it; they worked for less anyway, and had less scruples to hold them back.

Artisan headquarters was the tallest building in Caerleon City, and most likely the tallest building in all of Fiore. It was made entirely of black one way glass, and it stretched almost out of view into the sky. The sunrise was reflected in the glass, and if Ellis Vanunu had some time he would have stopped to enjoy the view.

But unfortunately, Ellis Vanunu was a man perpetually pressed for time.

He strode through the revolving doors, and hurriedly made his way across the huge lobby. Hardly anyone was there yet, and the building felt familiarly empty. His footsteps echoed around the entire room.

"Good morning, Mr. Vanunu," a receptionist called out to him. He nodded to her, but didn't break stride until he reached the elevator. He waited for the doors to chime open, then ducked inside, and pressed the button for his floor.

One of the benefits of being a regional manager was a nice office. He wasn't anywhere close to the top of the buildings, where the major executives worked, but he was far enough away from Research and Development that he could't hear the noise. And his office was on of five on the entire floor, so he had more than enough space to work.

He stepped into his office, and was surprised by what he saw.

There was someone sitting at his desk.

Ellis Vanunu was a careful man by nature.

It was because of this that everything about this man made him quiver in fear.

He reclined as if it was his own desk, his feet propped up as though he owned the whole place. All the shadows in the room gravitated towards him, pushing the light in the room towards the corners. He was dressed in an all black suit, with dark red accents on his lapels, tie and cufflinks. His hair was long, pitch black, and messily kept out of his face.

He had his head tipped back and his eyes closed, a bottle of Ellis Vanunu's own scotch opened. He was sipping from a short glass, swirling the drink in the glass around before each sip.

As soon as Ellis Vanunu entered, the man seemed to sense it, and his humming stopped.

"Hello, Mr. Vanunu," he said, with his head still lolled back, "Would you like a drink?"

"Who are you?" Ellis Vanunu asked, putting down his briefcase and inching towards the panic button on the opposite wall behind the bookcase. The button would summon the entire building's security force. But to get to it, he would somehow have to get past the dark man sitting at his desk.

"Oh, come now, you mean to tell me don't know me?" a smile curled itself onto his mouth, but it only made his appearance all the more chilling. He poured himself some more scotch, "I thought you knew everyone you employed, Mr. Vanunu?"

"Have I have employed you?" he was almost even with the desk. A few more steps, and he could lunge and hit the button. He just needed to keep this man talking for a few more seconds, "For what job?"

Ellis Vanunu was even with the desk. Slowly, he took two large steps, and was at the bookcase. The man still hadn't answered his question, and the silence set goosebumps running along his skin. He was at the panic button and he was only a breath away from summoning security.

Then the man spoke, causing Ellis Vanunu to jump nearly out of his skin. "Catching the Ghost, of course."

Ellis Vanunu stopped in his tracks. His hand froze above the It was about then he realized that this man was toying with him; if the dark figure at his desk hadn't wanted him to reach the panic button, he never would.

"Are you a member of Black Compass?" Ellis Vanunu asked, trying desperately to remember the brief case file he'd read about them. Dark guild based in southwestern Fiore, only active for the past three years…that was essentially all that the case said. Next to nothing else was known about them. When they'd contacted him with interest in catching the Ghost was the first time Ellis Vanunu had ever heard of them.

"Indeed," the man said, spinning around in the chair to face him. His eyes were silver, like twin pools of moonlight. There was an air of power that emanated from him now that filled up the entire room, "I am in fact the leader of the team representing Black Compass for this mission. I'm here to let you know that we do not require a debriefing."

Ellis Vanunu opened opened his mouth, but the man continued right over him, "Why don't we, you ask? Simply because we know everything there is to know about this case. We know all about how you want to show up your predecessor by actually catching the Ghost. We know that they've almost cut your quarterly profits in half, so failing to do so would cost you your job. I know about Artisan's little secrets in its R&D department, but that's for a later date…we know about the other mages on the job…"

Here he paused, and gave a thoughtful frown.

"…which is the other reason I'm here. For us to work, we can't have any other guilds sodding up our work. So as of now, all other guilds are off the case. Either that, or we're going home, Mr. Vanunu."

The man was leaning forward now, and Ellis Vanunu forgot how to speak for a second. He knew that it would be unwise to say any more than he needed to.

"What makes you think you can do what those other mages can't?" Ellis Vanunu asked, unable to help himself. He had thought the man would become angry, but his expression didn't change aside from his mouth taking a tiny dip in displeasure.

"You obviously have very little experience with mages, Mr. Vanunu," the man stood, and walked towards Ellis Vanunu. The shadows followed him until he was in front him, leaning into his personal space. Ellis Vanunu backed up, until he was pressed up against the bookcase. In his haste, he accidentally hit the panic button, setting off the silent alarm. Up close, the darkness that surrounded him was almost palpable.

"I am what you call an extremely powerful mage," the man said, pointing one of his fingers at Ellis Vanunu's throat, "You can see, even when I exert no magical force, just being close to someone like me is enough to make someone without magic like you utterly paralyzed. If I released some magic, with just an ounce of effort on my part, I could make your entire body shut down…a most unpleasant way to die, I assure you."

Ellis Vanunu tried to move his mouth, but his muscles weren't only thing he could do was quiver as he stared into the man's terrifying silver eyes. "Where are the five sets of mages?"

Because he still couldn't move, Ellis Vanunu glanced at his desk, hoping desperately for the man to understand. He did, because he drew back with a grin on his face, and returned to the desk. After a few seconds of searching, he scooped up the list and put it in his pocket.

"Excellent speaking to you, Mr. Vanunu, but I'm afraid I'll need to be going. You'll have the Ghost in less than a week."

"Wait…" Ellis Vanunu croaked, still in the same spot as the man had left him. "…w-who are you?"

The man stopped, and Ellis Vanunu almost thought he wouldn't answer. Slowly black magic began to consume his form, as he disappeared from the bottom up. It looked like dancing black flames, rising steadily until he burned out of existence.

"Naito Galatine," his disembodied voice reverberated around the room.

When the security force finally arrived, they found Ellis Vanunu slumped against his bookshelf, muttering about how the night was finally going to catch up to a ghost.

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(South Side)

The few mage guilds in Caerleon City are located on the outskirts of the East Side, and offer little training to those who don't have money in the bank. As a result, many untrained mages roam around Caerleon's poorer regions, especially South Side. One of the main revenue sources of the gangs, a drug called Blaze, is especially potent for these untrained mages, for short periods making their bodies rapidly produce magic. The effects of prolonged use, however, cause eventually cause the mage to self-destruct.

* * *

><p>"Has anyone seen Mirajane?"<p>

Erza was worried. She checked the clock in her and Lucy's room; it was just past eight o'clock. She had knocked on the door to her room almost an hour ago, but she hadn't responded. Erza knew letting her drink last night was a bad idea; when was the last time Mira had gone drinking anyway?

It had to have been around two years ago, now that Erza thought about it. Now, whenever the guild partied, she was always on the sideline when she used to be in the center of the fray. The changes in Mirajane after that day, besides her appearance, had been subtle. But Erza, who knew her so well, had noticed all of them; she didn't fight, she didn't hang around the boys anymore, she didn't use her Satan Soul, she never caused any drama, she smiled much more around everyone, but not as much when she was alone.

The list went on, but one thing was clear; losing Lisanna had changed Mirajane.

But now that she was back, Erza wasn't sure where that left Mirajane. All she knew was that Mira was having trouble coping with whatever she was going through.

"I haven't seen her since last night," Natsu said, and Lucy and Gray nodded in agreement.

"She could just be asleep," Lucy offered, "and hopefully not _too_ hungover…"

"Lucy can you go check her room again?"

"Sure," Lucy went out, shutting the door quietly behind her.

The silence that had set over them was a heavy one. Erza sat with her arms and legs crossed in on the edge of the bed. Natsu was sitting cross legged on the floor. Gray was leaning against the wall. The sun was just rising above the horizon of the buildings, but a fog cloaked the streets below them. As the sun climbed, its beams began to pierce through, letting them only see snatches of Caerleon at a time.

Finally Gray spoke what had been on all three of their minds, "Erza, what if Mirajane isn't there?"

"We'll look for her," Erza responded bluntly.

"What about the mission?"

"We'll look for her," Erza repeated, and sighed as she turned to Gray, "Friends come before the mission, always. Would you rather leave Mira?"

"No, definitely not," Gray said, and scrambled to verbalize his thoughts, "It's just that…that guy, Ellis Vanunu, he seemed really impatient. I don't think he'd really like us spending our time looking for her instead of the Ghost."

"Well tough titties to him," Natsu snapped, chiming in for the first time, "I don't care if we don't get paid, we're gonna find Mirajane. That Vanunu guy can su—"

Their argument was cut off when they heard a scream, a door slamming and Lucy scrambled back in the room. She was breathing heavily and had gone pale, "Guys, I knocked on the door and someone answered, but it wasn't Mirajane."

"Who was it?" Natsu asked, jumping to his feet.

"I don't know, some guy, and he was gross, and he smelled like smoke, and he grabbed me, and I slammed the door on his arm and..and.." Lucy trailed off as her heart rate slowed and she calmed down. "Just come on, maybe he knows something!"

Exchanging wary glances, the members of Fairy Tail rose and made their way across the hall to the room Mirajane should've been in, room 254. Gray rapped on the door for a couple of minutes there was no response. Then there was a crash and a groan of pain, and a long string of expletives.

"Yah, Yah I'm coming you…" A scratchy voice came from within the room.

Seconds later the door slowly opened but the first thing that came out was stream of smoke. It was followed short, hunched over, grubby old man. His white shirt was stained so much it looked yellow.

"The fuck are you?" his voice cracked on almost every sylable. He tried to shut the door on Gray, but he easily overpowered the old man and threw the door wide and the man on his ass.

"What's the shit wrong with you?" he howled, rubbing his back and glaring at Gray. He then caught view of Lucy, and Erza next to her. "Oh blondie, you brought me back a friend!"

Lucy's nose wrinkled as she glared down at the smoke stinking old man, "Go die already, pervert."

"Don't be like that blondie, I'll still have time for you and yo—"

"Shut the hell up, will ya?" Gray growled, freezing some of the smoke around the old man. It fell to the ground and shattered, and the man paled.

"W-wizards huh?" He stood up, and brushed his shirt; the action sent more smoke into the air, "Name's Pappi. What can I do for you, ah, fine peoples today, sirs and madams?"

"You can tell us where the girl that bought this room last night is, to start off," Erza said lowly.

Pappi gulped.

"Oh you mean that white haired girl?" he asked offhandedly. The next second there was a flash of steel, and Pappi looked to his right, and a sword was buried in the wall not two inches from his ear. He screamed, and fell to the ground, his eyes wide and afraid to say anything more to anger the red haired mage.

"Yes, her. What do you know?"

"W-well last night, ya friend got into a fight with old boy Jezebel," he kept glancing to the sword and to Erza then back the whole time he was talking, "And she trashed the bar with this other cloaked guy, then them two skated out. I-I, uh, usual don't got enough to afford one of these nice, nice rooms, so I asked Jezebel if ya friend, ya know, had rented a room and if I could have it. He wasn't in no shape to respond, see, so I took it as a yes. And here we are, in this precarious situation."

Erza thought about this revelation for a few minutes, forgetting about her blade buried in the wall, and Pappi still sitting there about to piss himself at any sudden move. With a flick of her wrist, the broadsword disappeared into a pink magic circle. Slowly Pappi rose to his feet, his eyes not leaving Erza for a second.

"Where can we find Jezebel?"

"You should look downstairs first, and if he ain't there, look in the warehouse across the street. He probably there countin' up his product."

Erza nodded.

"Is that it, madam?" Pappi asked, his eyes now darting back to his vaporizer, sitting on the table in the other room. He saw Erza follow his gaze, "Don't think that's the stuff for you, madam. That's Blaze, heard it does some crazy shit to mages."

"Does it…" Erza trailed off. The smell was of the smoke was strangely familiar. But there were more pressing problems at the moment than remembering a smell. "That is all. Thank you, Pappi. Natsu, wake up Happy, we're leaving."

"Yeah, yeah," Pappi said as the mages left, and shouted after them, "Careful around Jezebel!"

He shut his door, and sighed. Pappi shook his head all the way back to his vaporizer and took a huge hit, hoping the Blaze would take away the jitters from those scary ass wizards. He crashed back onto his couch, and began writing down that entire encounter with those so called Fairy Tail mages down on a notepad.

"Even if he's Baade's son, that brat ain't paying me enough…"

* * *

><p><em>Crash!<em>

"Who the hell are you?"

The scream tore Mirajane from her sleep, and somehow her dormant instincts from years of field work kicked in, and she rolled off the couch, her blanket caught around her shoulders like she was some superhero. Her eyelids were still heavy, and the sun coming through the skylights made her squint. It took her a second to focus, but standing in the doorway of the apartment was a young woman pointing a wickedly sharp butterfly knife right at her.

Of course.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time, honey, who the hell are you?" she growled, tucking her silky black hair behind her ear, but keeping the knife from moving an inch. Slowly she began to close the distance between them.

"I think I should be asking you the same question," Mirajane said evenly, her hands raised if it came to a fight. She really hoped that wouldn't happen, because Mirajane wasn't quite sure she had completely regained control of her Satan Soul. But the other woman was still approaching, her crystalline blue eyes locked onto her with deadly glare.

"You little tramp, you don't got any idea who owns this place do you?"

Then, as if summoned, the door to Kalan's room slammed open, the hinges nearly snapping with the force. He stood there with a knife of his own in each hand, in only a pair of loose pants His pale eyes shot to Mirajane.

"The hell is going on?" he asked her, "Could've sworn I told you _not _ to wake me up unless…"

Then he noticed the other woman, and before Mirajane could blink he was beside her, pushing her out of reach of her assailant. He stared down the intruder, and left Mirajane confused; sure, he'd saved her once, but the last time she checked Kalan hadn't indicated he'd kill for her.

But from the look in his pale eyes, it certainly seemed like he would now.

The woman's form had gone slack and she was staring at Kalan, her mouth opening and closing without forming words. It was then that his groggy eyes widened with recognition, much to Mirajane's surprise. "Tam?"

Mirajane cocked an eyebrow. Tam?

"Kalan," the woman, apparently Tam, choked out looking absolutely shocked, "you're… ah…back…" She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she only grew pale and swallowed the words.

Silence fell between them, a much heavier silence, Mirajane was beginning to realize, then there should have been.

"What are you doing, Tamara?" Kalan said, looking down and seemed to only then to notice the knife in her hand, "Put that damn thing away, you gone crazy on me?"

The woman obliged without thinking, hiding the knife back somewhere in her jacket. Her eyes darted back to Mirajane as if remembering she was there. Her expression soured, and she jerked a thumb at her a she turned back to Kalan."Who is this?"

"She's with me," Kalan said glancing at Mirajane. For a second he gave her a curious look, as if he too was wondering who she was. "That's all you need to know."

Tamara seemed to recover from her shock, and she put a hand on her hip, "Guess I should have known that. Didn't even let her sleep in the bed, huh?"

"Um, I think you're misundersta—"

"What are you doing in my apartment? How'd you even get in?" Kalan said, not even noticing Mirajane's outburst.

"I have a key, remember, _Kal_?" Tamara just shook her head, "What, you forgot? Somehow that doesn't surprise me a damn bit."

She was glaring daggers at Kalan, who didn't seem to be able to look away. He just stared at her with a blank expression. The surprise that had painted his face before had slipped off, leaving Kalan looking cruelly apathetic. Tamara continued to stare him down, something Mirajane couldn't comprehend passing between them, until her face twisted into a bitter scowl and she gave Mirajane one last look before she turned to go.

Then she remembered Kalan's other question.

"And I was cleaning your place, 'cause someone's gotta do it while you're away."

She jerked her thumb to a box of cleaning supplies that had spilled on the floor, explaining the crash Mirajane had heard when she woke up. Kalan's shoulders slumped ever so slightly at this. He looked away from Tamara, and up to the skylight.

"You didn't have to do that."

"You know what? You're damn right, I didn't have to," Tamara said, already at the door and scooping up the contents over her dropped box. As she bent over, a small swath of skin was exposed. Mirajane almost had to do a double take; just above her waist were three black stripes.

Here was _another_ member of Spectre.

"Tam," Kalan called out softly. Mirajane wasn't sure at first if the woman had heard, but her head raised, and there was a hope in her eyes that was so strong it made Mirajane's stomach quiver."Don't tell anyone I'm back."

Tamara's eyes widened, as though his words had been a slap in the face; on some level, Mirajane thought, they had. Going out on a limb, Mirajane could guess what Tamara had expected to hear. She stood up quickly, not even bothering to pick up the rest of the cleaning supplies and left without so much as a look back.

The door slammed shut, leaving Mirajane's head ringing. There was a pit in her stomach, and she felt an excruciating amount of pity for that Tamara woman, even though she was a part of Spectre. Kalan was just staring at the door, not having moved an inch. With huge sigh he fell back onto the couch and went back to rubbing his temples.

"My head hurts," Kalan said simply, then covered his face with a cushion. He let loose a loud groan into it, and just stopped moving. Mirajane stood there, not really sure where the boundary between them was, so she sat on the table across from the sofa.

It was then Mirajane noticed two things; Kalan was shirtless, and he had another tattoo on his stomach. He was really skinny, with some lean muscle here and there, but for Mirajane who was surrounded by muscular mages all the time, they were fairly unimpressive. But Mirajane recalled how far his punch had thrown Jezebel, a man literally twice his size. His physique made it only more mystifying.

His tattoo was even stranger. Mirajane wasn't sure if Kalan was a mage or not (she hadn't sensed any magic around him, so it was most likely a no) but the ink looked vaguely like a magic circle. It was nine symbols arranged within two concentric circles, like a magic circle. The design looked strangely familiar, but she couldn't place exactly where'd she'd seen it.

"…are you listening?" Mirajane jerked her head up to see Kalan staring at her staring at his stomach. She could see the corners of his mouth twitching, "If you want to stare at me, I think I have some pictures somewhere around here…"

"I think I can live without them, thanks," Mirajane responded, rolling her eyes. A small smile came to his face, and the look in his eyes made her pause, "What?"

"Nothing," something shifted in his pale eyes and the look was gone, "I was just asking you if you were hungry."

"Now that you mention it," Mirajane said, just as her stomach growled, "I am pretty hungry. What's for breakfast?"

"Lunch, princess. It's almost one o'clock." Kalan leapt over the back of the sofa. And went into his room, returning a few moments later pulling on a red tank top. He went over to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets. Mirajane drifted over to the the kitchen table. As Kalan sorted through the cabinets, his shirt rode up, and Mirajane could see the hilts of four knives tucked into his waistband.

"Why do you carry so many daggers?" Mirajane asked, plopping herself down in one of the chairs.

He stopped for a second, then continued what he was doing."Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just curious," Mirajane said, confused at his response. "Am I not allowed to be curious?"

"Depends," was his short reply. He had cleared a few cabinets and was no scouring the refrigerator.

"Depends on what?" Mirajane was quickly growing frustrated with the way he was handling her question. He shut the refrigerator door and turned to her. His mouth became decidedly infuriating smirk.

"Depends on why you're curious," he said pulling up a chair across from her, ignoring the glare she was leveling at him, "It looks like everything's went and gone stale. I guess I was gone longer than I thought.."

He finished his thought almost mumbling to himself, but Mirajane caught it; the implication stoked her curiosity. Twice now, once by that Tamara girl, and now by Kalan, it had been mentioned he had gone away. Last night when Mirajane had met him, he'd certainly smelled like the road (and still did to an extent).

"Can I ask you a question?" Mirajane said, trying her best to put on a sincere face.

"That _was_ a question."

_Deep breaths_, Mirajane thought, _deep breaths and close your eyes, he's only trying to get a rise out of you_.

"I meant another question," she said as calmly as she could. When she opened her eyes she found Kalan grinning like a madman at her, enjoying every moment of her frustration.

"Sure," he shrugged, momentarily containing his smirk.

"Um," Mirajane paused, suddenly nervous. The hair on the back of her neck were standing up as the question formed itself in her mind. "That Tamara girl said something about it, and you just mentioned it too. I was wondering where you were, you know, before you came back to the city last night?"

Mirajane felt it as soon as the words left her mouth.

"Where was I?"

Whatever boundary there was between her and Kalan, she definitely just crossed it.

His grin receded into a thin line, and his pale eyes went hard. The strange freedom and comfort she'd felt in engaging with Kalan had drawn back, as though his very presence had locked itself back behind those pale eyes. For the first time, Mirajane saw someone else beneath Kalan Baade's grin; it was someone cold, and starving for something they couldn't find for the life of them.

"It's damn fucking hard to lose anything, princess," he said, looking at her, but not meeting her eyes. Mirajane wrapped her arms around herself; the way he said 'princess' had made her shiver. "Trust me, you don't want to worry about it."

* * *

><p>"This is the warehouse?" Natsu asked in wonder, staring at the building before them.<p>

It was a huge building, at least a block wide and extended three blocks back. Like most of the buildings in Caerleon's south side, it was a fusion of modern steel braces, wood scaffolds and brick to fill in between. It was an impressive building, or at least seemed to have been one at one point; everything that could have faded had, leaving the building gray and washed out. But that wasn't what had the Fairy Tail mages staring at it in wonder.

They were staring at a huge, jagged hole at least ten feet across where the door should have been.

"I thought we were just dealing with some strew thugs." Lucy said, "What kind of street thug could do this? It's so big…"

"I'm scared Natsu!" Happy went to cling onto Natsu's shoulder.

"Maybe they used explosives," Gray volunteered.

"This wasn't done by flames," Natsu said after a moment. The Fire Dragon Slayer walked over to the hole, and ran his hand along the edges, "There's no charring, and the steel here is just torn. Metal always melts and then tears in an explosion."

Everyone stopped at this.

"Natsu that was actually…" Erza fumbled around for the word.

"Smart," Lucy decided, looking skeptically at Natsu.

Natsu shrugged, oblivious to the implications of what his teammates said, and started into the warehouse. Everyone followed, not noticing the tingle of magic that brushed against them as they passed through the opening.

The warehouse was a single huge room, with a labyrinthian layout of shelves that were arranged so that none of the Fairy Tail mages could see more than a few rows ahead of them. The shelves were stocked with various magical items, and some that were unfamiliar to them. Some had racks of vials filled with glowing solutions, and others had strange looking guns with curved barrels.

"Hey guys, come look at this," Natsu called from somewhere ahead. When the other caught up to him, he was sitting in a corner, looking into the contents of one of the many crates strewed across the warehouse.

"What is it, Natsu?" Lucy asked going up behind him to look over his shoulder. The crate was filled to the brim with purple, glassy looking orbs. All of them had a ring of crimson in the center. Looking at all of them in one place made Lucy a little dizzy. Erza and Gray leaned over to look into the crate too.

"Why did you want us to see this?" Erza fixed the orbs with a scowl, and picked one up to examine it.

"Wait a second, Natsu isn't that…" Gray said and his eyes widened as he realized.

"Yeah! The demon eye I bought back in the train station," Natsu said, scooping up a handful and letting them fall back into the crate, "I guess they ain't as unique as I thought."

"Ah, I remember _that_ now," Erza said, glaring at the quickly paling Natsu and Gray, "But what are they doing here?"

"This is really weird," Lucy said, backing up, only to trip over a dark mound in the middle of the walkway.

"Lucy's so clumsy," Happy cooed, shaking his head.

Gray navigated over the mound, and helped a flustered Lucy up, "What did you even trip on?"

Gray prodded the mound with his foot, and turned it over. Gray and Lucy gasped in surprise. Natsu, Erza and Happy looked over, and they too went pale; the mound that Lucy had tripped over was a man. It was clear he was dead.

As they looked ahead, there were more men, presumably the warehouse's guards, slumped around the shelves.

"Looks like we're not the only ones looking for Jezebel," Erza said, lightly poking one of the men. He was dead, too. They all were. "Be careful, whoever did this may still be around."

They continued through the warehouse, Erza in the lead with Lucy and happy shakily bringing up the rear. The warehouse was truly like a maze; after a while, Lucy was sure Erza was leading them in circles, but was too afraid to say anything. It was impossible to tell where they were in relation to anything, or even if they were making much progress at all. Lucy couldn't even remember which way the entrance was now.

It seemed like the third time they'd passed the shelf of smoking paraphernalia when up ahead they heard voices. Erza haled up a hand, and they all strained to hear the conversation going on a fews rows ahead.

"…but you don't want that, do you? So tell me, Mr. Jezebel how many of your fingers is what you know about the Ghost worth? I think…"

The first was a man's voice, strangely easygoing despite the weight of his words.

"…us what we want to know and you get to walk out of here. It's actually really simple. But since you seem kind of stupid, if you don't coopera…"

The second was a woman's voice; she was clearly the more volatile of the two.

Through the shelves they could also hear the groans of another man, who Erza assumed was Jezebel. And the two that had made the huge hole in the entrance and done in all the guards had captured him.

"We need to move quickly," Erza whispered, her magic summoning a broadsword from thin air, "Jezebel is our only lead to find Mirajane so we can't let these two kill him."

Everyone nodded in agreement. They stalked towards them, following the sound of the steadily growing voices. Just as it seemed they had gotten close, the voices stopped. The Fairy Tail mages stopped as well, each one of their hearts pounding; the sound filled up their ears in an excruciatingly loud drum, and if anything had given them away before, surely their heartbeats were giving them away now.

"Oi, you guys can come out," the man called, startling them, "We know you're there."

The Fairy Tail mages all exchanged glances, until finally Natsu rounded the corner the others quickly following him.

They had arrived in a clearing a few shelves wide with plenty of space for all of them to stand side by side rather than in single file. There was a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, and under it, strapped to a small chair, was a hugely muscular man with dark blue hair. His whole form was slick with sweat, and his mouth was bound.

"So," the man said stepping out of the shadows. He was tall and lanky, dressed in a plain thermal shirt and some loose canvas pants tucked into low boots. A red and gold scarf was wrapped around his head and neck, letting his long grey-green hair fall erratically around his face. The scarf also hid one of his eyes, but the exposed eye was a lazy amethyst."How did you guys end up here, too?"

"We were looking for this man," Erza said, pointing her sword first at Jezebel, then at the lanky man. "He has information that we need, so we can't let you kill him."

"Oh, we weren't going to kill him, were we Katrina?" the man said looking back at the woman, who was still in the shadows. The woman only clicked her tongue, "Well I wasn't going to kill him, but Katrina here hasn't mastered the subtle art of self-control yet so I can't say the same for her."

"Self-control isn't going to help us find the Ghost," the woman, apparently Katrina, said, as she too stepped out into the light. She was slender, with wide hips and a mane of pale blond hair that she kept contained in a single ponytail. She wore a pair of tight pants with a series of holes that ran down each side, plain black shoes and a low cut vest.

"You see what I mean? No subtlety whatsoever," the man said, directing his statement at Erza, "But you two are alike in that regard, aren't you?"

"We didn't come here to play games with you thugs," Erza placed her sword right underneath thaw man's Adam's apple, but he didn't even flinch, "We're mages from Fairy Tail."

"Mages from Fairy Tail, huh?" the man said, and casually brushed Erza's sword aside so he could scratch his chin, "Katrina aren't these the mages we're supposed to find?"

"Yes, you idiot, they are."

"Oh, okay," the man regarded them all for a second and reached into his pocket. Erza immediately took a fighting stance, but he only pulled out a slip of paper. "Well I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your guild is off the Ghost case. We're taking over."

"Taking over," Natsu growled, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that Artisan gave us the case, and one of our conditions is exclusivity," the man said, "So you'll have to leave Caerleon by tomorrow, too, unfortunately."

"I can't sense any magic from either of you," Erza said skeptically, "What guild are you from?"

The two exchanged a look, which didn't go unnoticed by Erza; the man shook his head ever so slightly, but the woman disregarded him.

"We're from Black Compass," the woman said, glaring pointedly at the man, "And you better remember that name."

"I've never heard of you guys," Gray said folding his arms across his chest.

The man rolled his eyes, "That's because we're a pretty recently formed guild. And we prefer to remain _under the radar_."

He hissed that last part at the woman, who only turned her head.

"But what about the reward?" Lucy chimed in.

"Yeah, we've gotta get something for coming out all this way," Gray added.

"Yup, we got it covered," the man patted down his pockets, eventually pulling out a sizable purse of coin. He tossed it to Lucy, "There you go, all 50,000 jewels. And if that's all, you guys better get packing, if I recall the last train for Magnolia leaves early in the morning."

"We cannot leave Caerleon yet, we need to find our friend," Erza said, glancing at Jezebel. The man noticed.

"Ah, so that's why you want ol' Jezebel, not for information on the Ghost," the man nodded, and seemed for the first time to actually look at the Fairy Tail mages. He thought carefully for a long moment then sighed.

"Listen, I'm not going to tell my boss that I found you, so just find your friend and get out of the city as soon as you can."

The woman shook her head, "Are you sure, Beau? Naito doesn't like it when you keep stuff from him."

"He'll have to deal then," the man said simply, "These guys abandoned their mission to find their friend. I can respect that. I _do_ respect that."

Erza's eyes widened. She put away her sword and bowed, "Thank you for understanding."

"Of course, Jezebel's all yours," he responded and walked past the Fairy Tail mages. When he reached Erza, he put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, "You were wondering about why you couldn't sense our magic, right?"

As soon as his hand met Erza's shoulder, she could feel it; the gargantuan amount of magic coiled inside his body, all contained with immaculate control. Suddenly the already tall man seemed to grow until he was something of a giant, dwarfing Erza with his shadow. But as soon as the moment came, it was gone, and the man was walking away, "Come on Katrina, we're leaving."

The woman looked at Erza curiously, then followed after the man. Erza's knees began to quiver without her noticing.

"Hey, Erza are you okay?" Gray asked laying a hand on her shoulder. To his shock, Erza jumped in fright, a small yelp escaping her, "What did that guy say to you?"

"Nothing," Erza breathed out, not convincing Gray at all. The Titania sighed, "You just have no idea how lucky we just were."

* * *

><p>Mirajane sat curled up on Kalan's couch, with nothing to keep her company besides her thoughts; after their exchange Kalan had left the apartment, only coming back to give her some food. When she asked him what he was doing, he only responded with 'business'. He'd left around one thirty, and it was approaching six o'clock.<p>

Mirajane was afraid to ask what kind of business would take that long.

But she couldn't help but wonder what Kalan's role in Spectre's operation was. Come to think of it, she hardly knew anything about what Spectre actually did, besides kill and steal. Even knowing that, Kalan hadn't seemed like a killer. At least not at first.

It was hard to admit, but deep down she was scared of Kalan, or more accurately who he could be. She'd known him for less than a day, and it already had been emotionally the most tumultuous experience of her life. Kalan seemed charming, but that dark hunger she saw earlier in him only reminded her of the harsh reality; she had no idea who this man was.

Mirajane sighed and laid back. She hardly knew him, but she was still wearing his clothes, and lounging about in his apartment, like she was his girl.

"Forget Kalan," she murmured to herself, "I have bigger things to worry about."

And chief among these worries was that she was supposed to be catching the leader of Spectre, and the one who was harboring her was a member. No matter how she looked at, it wasn't going to end well. But she couldn't forget about her mission. Now, with Kalan gone, it was the perfect time to gather information.

In the past few hours Mirajane had wandered around every part of the apartment except one; Kalan's room.

The door was cracked a tantalizing amount. Mirajane looked again at the clock, then back at the door. It was truly now or never. Slowly, she pulled herself up and stalked towards the door. She was just at the door, when she heard the doorknob begin to turn. Of course, Mirajane thought, of-fucking-course.

She was caught and she knew it, so she didn't move and just mentally scrambled for an excuse. But the door still hadn't opened. She listened a little more closely and she heard Kalan cursing and fumbling with something.

"Yo, can you help me out?" he shouted through the door. Mirajane put a hand on her chest to try to slow down her heart, thanking whatever gods were out there for the first lucky break she'd caught in a while.

She opened the door to find Kalan in his cloak with his arms full of bags, some groceries others much to big and unwieldy for Mirajane to recognize. "Here take these for a sec."

He handed her the groceries, and once he could move his arms he came inside and shut the door behind him. He laid his bags down on the sofa, and took a few into his room.

"You can put the groceries on the kitchen table, I'll put 'em away soon," he said and tossed her a duffel bag, "Tell me which one you like the best, and then put the rest back in."

Kalan went over to the groceries, and began methodically sorting and putting them away. Mirajane unzipped the bag, and dumped out its contents; they were dresses. All of them looked fairly expensive too. But just from looking at them, a sparkling blue one caught her eye.

"I really like this one," Mirajane said, holding it up for Kalan to see. He regarded the dress and then her with a single movement of his pale eyes, looking her up and down.

"It suits you, princess," he said, then turned back to his task of throwing away the stale and putting away the fresh food. He'd really bought a lot of groceries, Mirajane thought.

So without thinking, Mirajane walked over and helped him. She felt his eyes on her for a second, but he didn't say anything. "Where do the potatoes go?"

"In that cabinet to the right of the sink."

It was strangely therapeutic work. They didn't speak at all, aside from Mirajane asking where things went and Kalan answering her. Mirajane moved about in the same space as him, but she was exceedingly aware of both of their personal space. And sometimes, she'd pass a little too close to him or he'd brush against her and she found that something unnamable was building in her. She felt it trying to escape, dancing on her tongue.

"I'm sorry about this morning," Mirajane said out of nowhere. Kalan was caught completely by surprise at this, and nearly spilled the ground beef all over the floor.

"What do you mean?" he asked, eyeing her strangely.

"I just feel like there's a certain line between us and I crossed," Mirajane said, surprised she was able to articulate her thought so well on such short notice, "So I'm sorry I asked so many questions about you."

"It's fine, princess," he said, frowning as he seemed to try to come up with more, but couldn't. "You said you were curious right? There ain't harm in being curious." She saw him shake his head to himself, but she felt a strange relief and release. "Tell you what, let's play a game."

Mirajane stared at him in confusion, "What type of game?"

"A questions game," he said cryptically. The table was mostly clear, so Kalan just took the remaining groceries and threw them on the counter. He poured himself a glass of what looked like vodka, "Do you want some?"

"Um, just water, thanks," Mirajane said, even more confused now. He shrugged and poured her some water, and sat down at the table beckoning for her to do the same.

"So this is how the game works," he said as she sat down, "We both ask each other questions, but you don't have to answer unless the other person answered your last question. Get it?"

Mirajane nodded, "Who goes first?"

"I'm feeling generous," in one gulp Kalan drained half his glass, "so you can go."

"Alright," Mirajane found herself unable to come up with a good question. She didn't want to set Kalan off like she had earlier, so she started off with what she thought was a pretty harmless question, "Why are you drinking vodka at six o'clock in the afternoon?"

He grinned, "Because I love to drink. Always have, always will. Besides if it took you as much as it takes me to get drunk, you'd love it too."

Mirajane giggled, and felt herself catching Kalan's grin, "I'm not sure if that should worry me or not. Your turn."

"Hm, what is," he paused, fixing her with his gaze. Mirajane found herself holding her breath in anticipation, "your…favorite color?"

"Um, are you serious?" Mirajane said frowning at him, "Blue. Why ask such a…unimportant question?"

"Is that your question?"

She thought for a second, then answered, "Yes."

"Well, I'm really good with people," Kalan said, finishing off his glass and pouring himself some more, this time going into the refrigerator to add some orange juice, "It's just that I know so much about you by just looking at you, there are so many questions I already know the answer to."

"I don't believe you," Mirajane said, leaning forward and resting her chin on her laced fingers, "Nope, no way that's true."

"Is that a challenge, princess?" Kalan grinned and set his cocktail to the side for a moment, "I know you're left-handed, but you learned to use your right. I know you hurt your left leg when you were young so you favor your right. I know you grip your right wrist when you're annoyed. I know you've never been in love, even though many guys have been and are interested. I know your parents aren't in the picture, and I know you have siblings that you care very much about. I know that recently you lost someone close to you," here he gauged her response, "No? No, that person is back in your life and you don't quite know how to handle it. And I knew your favorite color was blue before I even asked it. Shall I continue?"

"No, that's fine," Mirajane said, her eyes wide. Kalan only took a swig of vodka and orange juice as though that had been the most natural thing in the world, "How did you do that?"

"You told me," he said, "You'd be surprised what you can see if you only look for it."

"You're pretty smart, aren't you?" Mirajane said in wonder, the words completely slipping out on accident. In a second she seemed to realize what she said, and her cheeks were tinged with red. To hide it she (non)chalantly drank some of her water.

"What, you thought I was dumb?" Kalan was grinning again, sipping his drink from the corner of his mouth. "Now you see, the question game isn't really for me."

"It's for me," Mirajane said, raising an eyebrow at him, "Why?"

"'Cause you seem to like questions. And I, I'm all about answers," Kalan said, "So I think you and your questions are interesting."

Mirajane just stared at him, at a loss of what to say. He just grinned at her, "But even so, this is going to have to be the last question. So ask away, princess."

"Why did you bring me those dresses and make me pick one?" she asked the only thing left on her mind.

"Good, pertinent question," Kalan said, his grin growing still wider, "The answer is simple; in three hours downstairs there's going to be a party, and you're going to be my date."

* * *

><p>AN: Really hoped you liked. The original chapter plan was to end with the party and some events after, but it just got too long, too fast. Naito Tsukiakari, though. Yeah, he's back and playing the villain, which honestly suits him so much more. You'll get a kick if you read my old (deleted so don't go looking) story, End of Shadows. But anyway, drop a review if you liked and keep chilling until the next chapter.

-SA


	4. Bewitched by the Hours (Pt 1)

**A/N: **So this chapter ended up getting spilt in two, with the other half still under way, so this Act will probably end up being 11-12 chapters. The next chapter will _hopefully_ be done within the next week (three cheers for procrastination!).

Anyway, merry reading!

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

Bewitched by the Hours

* * *

><p>"So is that what you were doing all that time? Putting together a party?"<p>

"First of all it's kind of a secret that I'm here right now," Kalan said, "So that would blow my cover. It's the equinox, and we always throw a party on the equinox. I was doing, ah, other things with my time."

By this time Mirajane knew better than to question about the 'other things'. She and Kalan were standing over the couch where he'd deposited a couple of the duffle bags he'd brought home. He opened one of them, and spilled out the contents on the coffee table; there at least a dozen of bottles of shampoo, soap and perfume. Scattered among them were some small makeup sets.

"Where did you get these?" Mirajane asked, holding up one of the shampoos. It looked fairly expensive, "All these must've cost a fortune."

"Well I'm _borrowing_ them from a friend. The dresses, too," he said waving a hand, ignoring her skeptic look. "We've got some time before we need to get ready, so what do you want for dinner, princess?"

"What are the options?" Mirajane asked as they made their way back to the kitchen.

"I can cook anything you can dream of," Kalan responded, already strapping on an apron and laying out ingredients.

"In that case surprise me," Mirajane once again sat down at the kitchen table and watched as Kalan grinned then set to work. Before she'd even answered his question it seemed he had already had an idea of what he was going to prepare. Soon the kitchen was filled with a smell so thick and spicy Mirajane found her mouth watering. Interested in what Kalan could possibly be preparing that smelled so good, she stood and glanced over his shoulder.

He was in the middle of slicing up something that looked like fish, with a thick red slurry cooking in a large pot on the stove. Once he was done with the fish, he doused them in some spices and olive oil and tossed them onto a frying pan. Soon he was chopping up leeks and tomatoes, and grinding up some other earthy looking plants. Like everything he did, Kalan seemed completely sure of himself moving rapidly and efficiently.

"What is that?" Mirajane asked, pointing to the quickly thinning red slurry.

Kalan didn't look up from what he was doing, "Tomato sauce, lemon juice, chopped onions vinegar and water."

Now Kalan was working on a slab of beef, slicing it into thin strips and tossing them directly into the slurry. Shortly after, he dumped the fish and the various vegetables in too and put a lid on the pot. He put some shrimp on to boil, and once they were ready he tossed them in the mix as well. Wiping a bit of sweat off his brow, Kalan grinned and sat down at the table.

"It'll take a couple minutes for it to be ready," he said, and went back to putting away the remainder of the groceries. Once he was done, he went without thinking to wiping down the counter.

"You know," Mirajane said, deciding to voice something that had been one her mind for a while now, "you'd make a really good wife."

"Really?" he gave an easy laugh over his shoulder, "I've heard women are universally attracted to a man who can cook."

"I'm more jealous than attracted, really," she said. This got his attention.

"Oh, and why is that?" Kalan turned to her, leaning against the counter.

"Well I've never been good at any of that stuff," Mirajane said, not knowing why she was suddenly spilling her guts. But as she spoke she found that something about telling made her feel almost…lighter. "I mean I can mix drinks, but that's about it. Even though everyone thinks I'm all girly, I'm completely lost in the kitchen."

"I never would have guessed," he said looking surprisingly impressed. Whether he was impressed he was wrong, or impressed by her, Mirajane couldn't tell but she found that seeing look on his face made her feel proud of herself.

Mirajane challenged Kalan's grin with one of her own,"Really? Your great powers of observation couldn't tell you that?"

"They couldn't," he gave a halfhearted shrug, "I guess I thought you were all girly, too."

"Are you disappointed?" Mirajane asked, feeling her cheeks warm as soon as she said it. She had been talking off the top of her head, without thinking much and it had felt good, until that little coy phrase had slipped out.

But the stutter in her heartbeat was familiar, and she calmed herself; she used to talk to boys like this all the time.

"No, believe it or not," Kalan said, his grin dropping. Mirajane was beginning to recognize these moments when Kalan was serious. Any such moment scared her, but this one was different. They had locked eyes, and Mirajane couldn't decide whether she wanted to reach out and touch him, or run somewhere so far away those pale eyes could never see her.

The moment broke to the sound of something boiling over. The pot was shaking, and Kalan rushed over to check on it, "Shit!"

He scrambled to turn off the flames and pulled off the lid, only to get a blast of steam to the face, murmuring obscenities not quite under his breath. Mirajane looked away, unable to look at him him as she tried to reorient herself.

"It looks fine," Kalan stirred it around slowly, and held some up in a spoon and let it slop back in, "It's a little thin, but the meat's done, so we're good."

Kalan pulled off his apron, and served each of them a bowlful of his mysterious gumbo. He handed her a spoon, and just sat down without touching his. Mirajane stared back at him, and he only gestured towards the bowl in front of her with a barely contained grin threading to break out. Mirajane took the hint, and dipped her spoon, making sure to get a good chunk of meat.

It was a spoonful of heaven.

It was tangy and the meet was sweet, but there was a pervading spice that added a much needed kick to the whole flavor pallet. Her face must've shown what she thought, because the grin Kalan had been holding back was nearly splitting his face in two.

"This is _so_ good," Mirajane said, wolfing down another spoonful and then another.

"Thank you, thank you," Kalan said, standing to take a mock bow before he ate his. "It's a little to thin

Mirajane ended up getting three servings. It had been a while since she'd enjoyed a meal like that. It was such a base pleasure she felt, Mirajane began to smile, and tipped her head back and sighed. "Where did you learn to cook like that?"

Mirajane wasn't looking at him, so she didn't see his grin turn to a grimace, but she heard him hesitate just long enough to know he was lying, "Just something I picked up, I guess."

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(West Side)

While most gangs are born and die in Caerleon's South Side, much older and much more prestigious gangs like the Orochinai and Snake Eyes founded much of the infrastructure in this part of the city. Despite Artisan's seeming omnipotence, many of the local businesses and people remain loyal to their roots and are more than willing to become the much needed bridge between the gangs and big businesses.

* * *

><p>"This is really a quality shop you've got here."<p>

If there was one thing Naito Galatine appreciated it was devotion to a craft. This little shop sold everything ceramic, each with a signature touch that added a certain elegance to them. None of them were magic pieces at all, but Naito couldn't help but think they somehow were worked with some kind of sorcery. Most mages lost appreciation for the makings of those without magic, but not Naito; no, this shop was something strangely beautiful and amazing.

This was why Naito Tsukiakari deeply regretted the situation he and the shopkeeper had found themselves in.

"It would pain me to burn it down," Naito said, waving a hand and summoning a small black ember. The shopkeeper, a young man with a crooked nose, was currently being held off the ground by one of Naito's black magic seals. "It really would. All I need is for you to show me the bunker in the back."

"Burn in hell, mage," the shopkeeper spat, struggling in vain against the magic that bound him.

"Come now, that wasn't an unreasonable request was it?" Naito shrugged and strolled around the shop, picking up a little ceramic dragon that caught his attention. It was red with , "I won't even disturb anything, all I need is to see it."

"I'd rather cut off my toes," the shopkeeper said, "You mages might not know 'bout this, but there are people that I'm loyal to."

"And are you protecting them out of loyalty or fear?" Naito shot back, "If the latter, I recommend you comply; I assure you I am far more terrifying then whoever you're protecting."

The shopkeeper began to laugh at this, a little chuckle that turned into a full on fit and left him coughing and clutching his sides, "That's what you think, mage."

"Oh? Do explain."

"I ain't protecting nobody. He the one who's protecting me. See, you can go in the back there, and see what you want to see. It won't make no difference because this man, he outsmarted countless mages like you before, who thought they could just come into his city, and you know where they are now?"

The corners of Naito's mouth began to creep upwards, "Where?"

"At the bottom of the river," the shopkeeper was back to roaring in laughter. He fell down as the seals holding him in place faded. He must've thought that he'd rattled Naito, because he didn't run, and only continued to laugh.

"So this man who's protecting you," the dark mage began offhandedly, "What do you think would get his attention faster, nailing you to the ceiling, or hanging you from the lamppost outside?"

"Excus—"

He didn't have the opportunity to finish his thought, because a lance of black fire had just pierced his throat. He fell back gasping, dead before he smashed into the counter behind him. Naito lowered his smoking fingertips, "The lamppost it is, then."

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(East Side)

Home to the Caerleon City's few mages guilds. Magic itself, while once an integral part of the city's culture has become the subject of much suspicion, spawning rumors of deathless gang lords, and hit-men that could blow apart an entire block with a snap of their fingers. As such, the guilds are of poor and quickly declining quality. The only trusted source of magical items is Artisan.

* * *

><p>East Star was a terrible guild to be a part of.<p>

With a name so cliché it bordered on ridiculous (there were a handful of other guilds with 'east' in their names) and positioned in the shadow of two huge Artisan offices, there was very little incentive to join the guild. There was even less incentive to actually work if you were already a member.

"Yo, Tyler, back from your job already?"

The mage in question, Tyler Jarkins was being jeered at by a couple of his fellow East Star members, among them their master, a one Jeremiah Altair who wasn't any more qualified to be the master than the other fifteen members of East Star, but got the position because the previous master had owed him one hundred and twelve dollars.

"I thought you were 'finally going to get something done', right?" Jeremiah balked, laughing so hard one of the bells on his hat came off.

"This wasn't my fault!" Tyler insisted, gesturing emphatically to the small crowd (the entire guild) that had gathered around him. "Besides, I don't see you guys doing any jobs."

The crowd went sheepish for a second, until one of the burst out, "You were taking that Artisan job right? Maybe if you'd stuck around, instead of pussying out, you could've convinced them get us out of this shitty building, huh?"

"Like I said it wasn't my fault," Tyler tried to say over the chorus of shouts, "Some mages just came by and told me that I was off the job."

Jeremiah held up a hand to silence the guild. This didn't work, and after a few seconds of screaming for them to shut up they were silent, "What do you mean by told you were off the job?"

"J-just that. Big ass islander just came and said 'your guild is off the Ghost chasing, here is compensation' and leaves me with the 50,000 jewels, and leaves." Tyler grinned and held up the hefty little sac of coin. "Crazy world, yeah?"

"50,000….jewels," Jeremiah's mouth went wide, "Tyler that's…that's enough to pay our rent for months…give that here, Tyler."

"About that," Tyler held the plump coin purse in front of Jeremiah's nose before jerking it back into his pocket, "See, I checked and the guild's official policy is that every jewel earned by members is their own, which I'll bet no one here knew because no one _works_ so I think I'm gonna keep it. Maybe, if you hadn't teased me so much before, I might've given you some."

"Well in that case it was a bit stupid of you to come back here," Jeremiah said, exchanging glances with the rest of the guild, who quickly guessed his intentions. Slowly, they formed a semicircle around the quickly paling Tyler Jarkins, "'Cause we're just gonna take it from you, you little pie—"

"Yo, Tyler, this is where you got to!" a cheery voice rang out, and the guild doors swung open, letting in the evening sun and a stranger.

The intruder was a young man with wild dark red hair that was tied back in a ponytail, dressed clearly in mage get up: a collared brown and red cloak, and a sleek black shirt and pale trousers, and boots with twin magic circles on them. His vivid green eyes took in the situation in a blink, and he winked at Tyler.

"Come on, you can't leave me alone in this city, you know how I get lost," the stranger said, throwing an arm around Tyler's shoulder and began guiding him towards the door, "Geez, two years and you still haven't changed. Say let's go hi—"

"Excuse me," Jeremiah said, clearing his throat loudly. "I don't know who you are," the guild members moved to so round them and cut off their escape, "But you just walked into the middle of some official guild business."

"Oh, sorry, my bad really," the red haired stranger said, not looking at any of them, "Not that your's isn't, but my _business_ is a little more important right now."

As soon as the word business left his mouth, his eyes lit up and everyone in the room could feel it just for an instant; an oppressively massive magic power that shook the very foundations of the East Star guild. Shaking with fear, the ones blocking the door scrambled out of the way.

The stranger gave them all an apologetic smile, "Sorry I have to borrow him like this, really I am."

Tyler's mouth was hanging open, shocked by the turn of events. The stranger smiled at him, and his grip tightened painfully on Tyler's shoulders and he hissed under his breath, "Walk, if you want to live."

This snapped the young mage into movement, and soon the two were back out on the streets. Once the guild was out of sight, the stranger let go of Tyler, who was still dumbfounded by how he'd gotten here. The stranger made to leave, but Tyler Jarkins continued walking by his side.

"You're one hell of a mage," Tyler said, unable to come up with anything better to say. The sun was setting, and the red tones that glanced off the buildings blended with the stranger, making him seem ethereal, as though he was a part of the sunset itself.

"I think you mean 'thank you'," he responded curtly.

"Oh yeah, thank you," Tyler had to increase his pace to keep up with his savior, "Don't know what I would've done without you there."

"Probably've been beaten half to death, and robbed."

"Yeah right? Thought those guys were my friends."

The stranger paused. His eyes looked ahead into the sunset as he answered, "If they turn their backs on you, they aren't your friends."

"Oh you're smart one too, huh?" Tyler stopped too, only a second away from running headlong into a fruit cart. He dodged it with an ease that suggested this wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, "Say what's your name buddy?"

"It's not important, _buddy_," the stranger said, shaking his head and continuing on his way. Tyler still followed him.

"So why did you save me?" Tyler asked, ignoring the stranger's growing scowl and frustration.

"Because I was in a position to do so," he said simply.

"Oh so you're one of those saint type dudes, yeah? How come you're in Caerleon, missionary work?"

"I'm here because a little birdie told me that something big's about to happen here," the stranger said. They had reached a bus stop at the corner of the street. "Speaking of, I really must be going."

Tyler opened his mouth, but the stranger held up a finger.

"Just one last thing, Tyler," he said, walking out into the middle of the street, "Don't spend all those jewels in one place."

And then a bus roared by, and the red haired stranger was gone.

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(South Side)

Spectre was once the reigning force of Caerleon City's south side. They were famed for their connections, and it was a common held belief that all business at some level were a part of Spectre. No one seemed able to stop them until Artisan financed a massive corruption purge that all but killed off Spectre. No one was sure as to the reason for Artisan's sudden motivation, but rumor has it that it had something to do with the company's Research and Development department.

* * *

><p>It was hard to think about anything when you had to go to the bathroom.<p>

Kalan was currently taking a shower in preparation for the party, and while she should have been thinking of how ridiculously long it was taking him, or how similarly ridiculous it was that he was singing in the shower, but the only thing she could think was that the last time she'd peed was before she'd gotten on the train to Caerleon City.

And now the only bathroom in the apartment was in use.

Mirajane should've expected it, honestly; ever since last night, so many complications had been thrown her way she'd lost track of them. But unlike the monstrous problems before, this one had a pretty simple solution; she just needed to find another bathroom.

But to do that she'd have to leave Kalan's apartment.

Mirajane wasn't even sure why she was ambivalent; Kalan hadn't explicitly banned her from leaving, and she had a good reason to leave. But she all the same couldn't help but think Kalan wouldn't want her to do so. With all the strange circumstances surrounding him, whatever he was planning seemed so convoluted it could come apart if the slightest of threads was pulled.

But if she didn't go soon, she'd wet Kalan's couch, which she was sure he wouldn't want.

So Mirajane closed the door softly behind her, and set off into the mysterious building where Kalan lived. Since Kalan's apartment was the only one on the floor, she crept down the stairs like she had when she'd first come here. The first door she tried was locked. So was the second.

"What am I even going to say if I see someone?" Mirajane murmured to herself, as she checked the final door on the second floor. It too was locked.

Maybe she'd just tell them she recently moved in. That sounded plausible at least.

Mirajane was now running from door to door, jiggling the handles frantically. She was considering summoning some magic to break into one of these damned apartments when the door she was about to try swung open, and the owner of the apartment walked out in a t-shirt and boxers.

He was a young man, no older than herself, with neat brown hair and plain brown eyes. He had a dopey expression on his face, as though he'd just woken up, even though it was almost eight o'clock at night. His eyes widened as he set his eyes on her, a blush quickly blooming on his cheeks.

"Wh—"

"Sorry, I really need to use your bathroom," Mirajane bowled over whatever he was about to say, not really caring if she sounded rude.

The man pointed back into the apartment, "In the back on the left."

Mirajane returned after a minute of sweet relief. Her host was waiting for her, too, now with pants on. The apartment they were in was much smaller than Kalan's but was strangely more cozy, with an entirely different, more personal feel to it. Pictures hung around the walls.

Right above a mock fireplace there was a picture that made Mirajane go pale.

The first thing she noted was that Kalan was in it, his shirt draped over his head, fixing the camera with his signature, shit eating grin. There was her host, his arm thrown around Kalan's shoulders. That Tamara girl was there too, her mouth wide, probably having been caught in the middle of saying something. They all looked about fourteen or fifteen. Then, there was a slightly older girl, probably seventeen or eighteen with long blonde hair that fell to the small of her back. She was standing in the back, reaching forward to pull Kalan's cheek. Standing next to her and looking exasperated was a twenty year old man with short, spiky black hair, and a scruffy goatee.

But all those details were lost to her except one; this man knew Kalan.

"I guess you really needed to use the bathroom, huh?" the brown haired man said, giving her a wide smile. It was nothing like Kalan's grin, which meant that _he_ was enjoying himself. It was more for her sake than his, and Mirajane found that oddly refreshing, "I'm Rudy Vill, by the way. You're…new here, I guess?"

This Rudy guy reminded her of burnt brown sugar. He seemed sweet, if a little clueless.

_It's kind of a secret that I'm here right now…_

So it made Mirajane's stomach sink when she had to lie to him, "Well yeah, I just moved in here, and my bathroom still needs some work."

"So that's why you came up here," Rudy Vill chuckled. Mirajane noted he has an accent similar to Kalan and Hilda, "Talk about clutch. What would you've done If I wasn't here?"

"Broken in," Mirajane said honestly, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head.

He laughed, "I guess you didn't get in here for nothing…"

Mirajane paused. What did that mean, 'get in here'…

"…so have you earned your stripes yet?"

"My stripes?" Mirajane knew where this was going, and her stomach was falling even further. She had just walked from one problem into a much bigger one.

"Yup, stripes," he said, and rolled back his sleeve, revealing the Spectre's signature three black stripes tattooed onto his shoulder. "Oh wait, you haven't had your trial yet have you? No you couldn't have, 'cause all of us aren't here yet. Actually, you might be waiting for a while…"

"Why won't I be able to have my trial?" Mirajane asked. Here was a golden opportunity to get some information on Spectre, even though it was a low move to take advantage of Rudy.

"Well, um," Rudy finally seemed to realize that he was saying too much, "there are a bunch of us who need to be there for it, and there's this guy and he's gone away, so we can't do it. He comes up with the trials now anyway, so we couldn't even if we wanted to…"

"Why did he go away," Mirajane asked before she could help herself, then mentally smacked herself. There were probably hundreds of more helpful questions she could've asked.

"He went away to…" Rudy looked away, his eyes straying to the photograph, "…he went away because he was tired, I guess. Of how things work here. I don't really know much, even though he was my best friend. Crazy, right? I don't even know if he's coming back…"

Mirajane nodded, digesting the revelation. For a second, it seemed Rudy had forgotten about her. His eyes were lost in the moment that picture had captured. Best friends with Kalan? Mirajane found it hard to believe, mostly because the two seemed to be complete opposites.

"But enough of that depressing talk," Rudy said suddenly, "Do you want something to drink? I've got tea, beer, and more beer. Oh shit, I haven't asked your name yet, have I?"

"Um, tea please," Mirajane said, "And you can call me Mirajane."

_"_Mirajane, huh? That's a nice name. Kinda gentle, you know?" Rudy said pouring her some tea, while he opened himself a beer. Maybe he and Kalan had something in common after all. "You know that guy we were talking about? I think he'd like you."

"Really, you think so?" Mirajane said, trying to keep her voice even and the frank disbelief out.

"Yeah, before he left, he was always talking about how we needed more gentle people around here." Rudy drained his can in a few gulps, and crushed it with ease. In a well practiced motion, he tossed it over his shoulder into the waste basket. "I think he'd be glad that you joined up. He might even take it easy on your trial."

"So, Rudy, about these trials," she glanced at him from over her cup of tea, "How do they work?"

"Well I'm not really supposed to tell you this but, they exist to test your…how do you say, inner self? Or resolve, I guess it could be." Rudy scowled as he seemed to remember. "Then some of us judge whether or not you passed."

"And you're part of the people that judge?" Mirajane said pointedly, not intending to give Rudy a way to worm out of the hole he'd dug himself into.

"Uh, yeah I am," Rudy said, "You're a persistent one, huh?"

"I guess I am," Mirajane said shortly, glancing at the clock. It had been an hour since Kalan had gone into the shower. He would have to be done soon, and Mirajane didn't want to get caught having left. She needed to leave soon.

"So Mirajane, whose clothes are you borrowing? Your boyfriend's?"

"What?" Mirajane said, looking down at herself and remembering that she was still wearing Kalan's baggy shorts and tank top. Her cheeks began to warm and she shook her head, "No, he's certainly not my boyfriend."

"Oh that's a relief," Rudy said, giving her another of his big smiles. She supposed he was charming in his own way, though in a far different way than Kalan, "So I don't know if you knew this, but there's a party tonight here celebrating the equinox. I was about to go round up a date before you barged in, but I'll forgive you if you be my date. Good deal, huh?"

"I'm flattered Rudy, but," Mirajane paused to come up with an excuse, but she realized she'd deceived this man too much. She decided on the truth, "I'm already going with someone. If you'd asked me earlier, I definitely would've said yes. But speaking of, I should probably be getting ready."

"I guess there's nothing to do then," he said, not put down in the slightest, "Should've figured a pretty girl like you would already have a date. Guess I'll see you there, Mirajane."

"Bye Rudy," Mirajane smiled at him over her shoulder as she left, "Thanks for the bathroom, and the tea!"

She shut the door carefully, then began sprinting up the stairs, already grimacing at the thought of explaining herself to Kalan. Even if he was still in the shower, somehow he would know she'd done something.

She was at the peeling red door. Mirajane took a deep breath, and opened it.

"Welcome back, princess."

Of course.

Kalan sat on the couch, wearing a just towel, still wet from the shower. He cocked his head, "Have a nice trip?"

"I did actually, thanks for asking," Mirajane pouted, "And I only left because you were in the bathroom, and I needed to go."

"I didn't ask," Kalan said, running a hand through his wet hair, "I'd only ask if I was mad at you."

"So you're _not_ mad at me?" Mirajane asked hopefully, almost letting lose the breath she'd been holding.

"Of course not, I didn't _explicitly_ say that you couldn't leave," there was something just beneath the surface of his words. He'd said he wasn't mad, but there was no mistaking that glint in his eyes. "But I thought you wouldn't do something so stupid."

"Stupid?" Mirajane said, her blood beginning to pound, "What did you want me to do?"

"Talk to me!" Kalan almost shouted, drawing up to his full height like a snake uncoiling. He surged towards Mirajane, and was in her face in a second. His hand smacked into the door beside her head, shaking the wood. "If I went out of my way save your damn fucking _life_ did you honestly think I wouldn't have let you use the _bathroom_?"

Up close Mirajane could smell the soap he'd used; she could feel the heat from the shower, and see the beads of moisture that ran along his arm. She could see the thick, glossy flesh of his scar, and the precision of the stripe tattoos on his neck. She could see a single strand of his hair clinging to his cheek, and the bottom of his damned pale eyes. She could feel his anger almost coming through his skin.

He was just as fearsome as he had been before, but now Mirajane felt it too; that little bit of white hot anger that began coursing through her, stirring her to madness, traveling up her throat and forcing the words out, "Bite me."

Kalan blinked. "What?"

"I said _bite me_," Mirajane snarled, practically an inch away from his face. She jabbed a finger into his chest, "You can say all that now, but how the hell was I supposed to know?"

Kalan didn't say anything. If Mirajane wasn't on such an emotional high she would've stopped to savor the look on his face. For the first time since she'd met him, Kalan Baade was shocked, and at a complete loss for words. And then he was laughing, clutching his sides as he fell back onto the sofa and leaving Mirajane standing there confused.

He stood, wiping the tears from his eyes, and made for his room.

"Better get ready, princess," he grinned over his shoulder, "We need to leave in an hour."

Bi-polar, Mirajane thought, Kalan Baade was most certainly bi-polar.

Mirajane sighed as her heart slowed. She could still feel that pounding in her ears, and her finger tingled where she'd jabbed Kalan. She didn't know where she'd summoned that burst of courage from. She never got angry like that anymore, but there was something cathartic about it. The whole ordeal left her feeling rather cleansed.

Mirajane pulled the blue dress from the from where she'd left it, and absentmindedly plucked up some soaps, and a shampoo, along with one of the make-up kits. She drifted over to the bathroom, starting the shower and climbing in before the water was even hot. The cold gave her goosebumps, but as the shower warmed, she felt the tension in her skin ease, until she sighed again, this time in bliss.

It was a moment of relief, the only one she could see happening in the near future. Whatever Kalan was planning, whatever he had gone away for, all of these mysteries that surrounded him were coming to a head.

* * *

><p>"Naito?"<p>

The sun had just dipped below the horizon. The heat was already waning, and the moon drifted up through the stars and cold. The south side truly became a different beast at night; the jagged edges of half-finished buildings, the murky light of the street lamps both mixed to make a the south side into the terrifying nest of killers that it was. His silver eyes could pick them out from the growing crowds, like sharks in schools of fishes.

The rain last night had tuned the air humid, and the night was thick. Sitting on this building top, he could see the entirety of the south side sprawling before him. It was strangely nostalgic, the crescent moon, the small smattering of stars. His shirt was untucked now, with more than half the buttons undone, his jacket draped lazily about his shoulders. He took a deep breath, inhaling all the darkness before him.

"What is it, Jane?" Naito said, as a wind blew through smelling like the river and her perfume.

"Beau and Katrina are back," she said after a pause. Naito didn't look back, but he could feel her standing just behind him. "It should not have taken them this long to complete their task."

The dark mage only sighed, and reached his hand out to cup the crescent moon, "It's a beautiful night, Jane, did you notice?"

He could feel her scowl, "I think he's up to something."

"Beau is constantly up to something."

"And you aren't worried?"

"Jane," Naito said, "nothing worries me. Beau wouldn't do anything against my wishes if he didn't have a reason."

"But what if his reason isn't good enough?"

"Good enough? For you, or for me?" Naito breathed out, closing his eyes. He felt Jane draw back from him.

"All I mean is that Beau doesn't always see things your way."

"Of course he doesn't," she was hesitating now, but Naito could tell she still had more to say, "He would be most boring if he did. Besides, it won't matter on this mission."

"What's so special about this mission?" there it was, the real reason she'd come up here, "Why are did we go out of our way to come here?"

"Can't you feel it, Jane?"

She came and sat down next to him, her long legs hanging off the side of the abandoned building. Her dark hair was caught in the wind, and Naito couldn't see her expression. "Feel what?"

Naito grinned. How could he explain this feeling to her: the grainy, smog filled air on his skin, the raw smell of wet stone, the black of Caerleon's night, or whisper of excitement in his heart? How could he tell her about the presence that shone through to him like a brilliant star in the murky sea of this gods forsaken city? How could he explain the quiver that it set in his very bones?

"I can feel him out there," Naito said, standing, balancing on the edge of the building on his toes, "The Ghost. Someone who will finally challenge me."

* * *

><p>Mirajane finished applying her little makeup, and twirled in front of the mirror. The silky blue dress Kalan had gotten her hugged her in just the right way, though it was a little to risqué for her tastes; it left her back, shoulders and a dipping amount of cleavage exposed. The dress parted down the side, letting almost her entire right leg free. She had drawn her hair into a low ponytail and she grinned at herself.<p>

She looked stunning, and she knew it.

Unable to find any blue heels, Kalan had found her some black strapped pumps, quieting her doubts with a simple 'it'll work out princess'. So she strapped them up, and did one final inspection in the mirror before she left the bathroom.

Kalan was waiting for her lounging on the sofa. He stood when he saw her, not wasting a second before grinning, "Who would've thought you could clean up so well?"

Mirajane should've said the same to him. He was wearing dark blue suit, with a black shirt and shoes, his tie a shade of blue that matched Mirajane's dress. He'd used some sort of gel to keep his sandy blonde hair out of his face; it only made his scar seem that much bigger, as now Mirajane could see its thin end just an inch before his hairline.

"I didn't know we were going to match," Mirajane said, a hand on her hip.

"We're not matching yet," he said, and jogged into his room, and snatched something. When he returned he was holding a thin silver necklace, with a small teardrop shaped sapphire dangling from its end. He stepped towards her, until he was much too close to her. He unclasped the necklace, and fastened it around her neck, his fingertips cold against her skin.

He stepped back and looked her up and down, his eyes finally settling on her bangs which were, per usual, held up by a little hair tie. She felt his demeanor change. "What is this?"

Mirajane glanced up."My hair."

"I mean this part in the front."

"My bangs."

"Why are they up like that?"

"Because that's how I like them."

"It looks silly."

"That's too bad. I'm not changing it. That _is_ what you were going to ask, right?"

"I'm not asking," he responded, and made to snatch the hair tie. Mirajane, having seen the move coming, slapped his hand away. There was a moment of silence between them, in which Kalan's eyes widened, then narrowed with a predatory gleam and he began to close the distance between them. "Wrong move, princess."

Mirajane ran. She dodged around Kalan, and vaulted over the couch, thankful for the ease of movement this dress allowed. Kalan followed close behind, the couch acting as a barrier between them now. "You're being unreasonable."

"You're being a selfish prick!" Mirajane exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Kalan.

He laughed lowly, "I was going to give up on this, but looks like I can't now after that little comment."

Kalan feinted left, then ran right, trying to circle around her, but Mirajane circled around, keeping the length of the sofa between them. Then in a flurry of movement, he was running over the couch, and Mirajane barely escaped into the, shielding herself with the kitchen table. Kalan began to prowl around, but Mirajane moved in the opposite direction, both of them now circling the table.

"All I'm asking is that you take off that ridiculous hair tie," Kalan said, but it was clear to Mirajane he didn't want to reason with her, "Which you may want to consider for your sake because it makes your forehead look huge."

"Then we can really match," Mirajane shot back, "'cause then both of us will have fat heads."

"Funny." Kalan suddenly changed directions before Mirajane could react, and caught her by the wrist, and instantly Mirajane was pinned to the refrigerator. She squirmed against his grip, but he held her fast. With one hand he slowly reached up and plucked her precious hair-tie off and her bangs fell into her eyes.

"You're a jerk," Mirajane pouted, trying to snatch it back. She was surprised however when his hand didn't move. Unconsciously, she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes, only to find Kalan staring at her, shock painted on his face. "What?"

For a second, he didn't respond. And then she could've sworn she saw his cheeks turn pink as he turned away, dropping the hair tie in her hand. "You win. Just wear the stupid hair tie, for fuck's sake." Without turning around, he began to head for the door. "And we're late now, so let's go."

Mirajane, looked at the tiny piece of plastic in wonder before for a long second, before Kalan snapped at her again that it was time for them to leave. She quickly tied her bangs back up, and went to join him at the door. When she reached him he was all grins again, but for a second she saw; he glared down at the hair tie like he was waiting for it to burst into flames.

Mirajane looked up at her bangs proudly, not for a second doubting what they were; finally, her first victory against Kalan Baade.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Couldn't help the sweet little ending, I honestly couldn't. If you liked, drop a review, if you didn't drop me one anyway telling me what didn't work for you. Until next time, SA.


	5. Entombed in a White Mask (Pt 2)

**A/N: **Small changes to note...a) chapter titles, b) Naito Tsukiakari's name changed to Naito Galatine.

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

Entombed in a White Mask

(Bewitched by the Hours Pt. 2)

* * *

><p>They were in an elevator, one which Mirajane hadn't noticed when they first entered (broke into, more accurately) the building. Apparently it and the rest of the building were powered by huge lacrima separate from the city's lacrima grid. Something about wanting to avoid contact with the big corporations. This elevator apparently was the only way, as Kalan had explained on their way, to get to their destination.<p>

"The entire ballroom's underground," he had said, looking smug as she had tried to keep from looking impressed, "It's the hottest club in the entire city." Here had given her a pointed look, and an equally pointed smirk. "You're lucky, usually no one get's in without an invite."

And with that he'd ushered her into the elevator, insisting again that she'd made them late, to which she retorted it was mostly his fault. But to call it an elevator was a little bit of a stretch; it was actually more of a cramped little steel lift in a cement shaft. Winding cables led them on their slow descent to the party.

It wouldn't have been bad, had she not tried to ignore how small it was, which only ended up making it seem smaller. She could smell Kalan, and she could smell her own scent both mixing in the air around them both fighting for dominance. She was up against the opposite wall, but every time the elevator shook, she brushed into Kalan. She'd throw him a glare, and he'd only raise an eyebrow and smirk at her.

Their progress was slow to say the least. "How much longer until we get there?"

"I dunno," he sighed. "I told them they needed to fix these old lifts…"

"We probably could've taken the stairs and been there by now," Mirajane said, crossing her arms.

"The stairs don't go down that far." He waved an arm around the shaft, "If you wanted a place to stay hidden, what would be more counter-productive and obvious than putting in stairs?"

Mirajane stared at him for a second and raised her eyebrows. "I don't know, maybe an _elevator_?"

"Ah, so you _can_ think a little," Kalan said airily ignoring her noise of indignation, "Well, did you notice this elevator before I showed it to you?"

"…No, I didn't."

"Then there you have it, princess!"

Kalan was in a decidedly good mood. He was still grinning, but he seemed much more animated, which was certainly saying something. He could barely contain himself, Mirajane noted, like he was a kid just before his birthday. Mirajane couldn't decide whether this was a good or a bad sign for the events to come.

The steel cables began to whine, and Mirajane couldn't help but feel her stomach sink. That couldn't be good. There was a grinding noise now, like the cable had caught on something, Their descent had almost slowed to a stop.

"This doesn't seem safe," Mirajane sad bluntly, a hand on her hip as she glared up at Kalan. The lift jerked a little, and she involuntarily let out a noise of surprise. She hid her embarrassment with an exasperated sigh, even though she knew Kalan saw right through it, "See? What'll you do if this thing kills us before we get to your party?"

"First of all, it would take a hell of a lot more than an elevator to kill me," he said as he raked a hand through his hair, "And nothing's ever really safe by the way."

"What are you talking about? There are plenty of safe things out there," Mirajane said, rolling her eyes, "like friends and family, or your home. Or maybe even elevators _not_ made out scrap metal."

"I'll give you the elevator one," Kalan said through a laugh, "But not those other ones. Your friends are only that until they see something worth more to them than you. And family's the same way. Besides everyone can die, and there ain't nothing special keeping your loved ones from the reaper."

"That's a sad way of looking at it," she said. Then there was surprise on Kalan's face, a look she hadn't expected, "What?"

"Nothing. I just thought you were going to say I was wrong," Kalan said, an unusual note of hesitation in his voice, "And that friends don't do that to each other, or that I was a bitter bastard for thinking like that."

"Well, you are a bitter bastard," she said cheekily, "But I used to think a lot like that, too. What's the point of being friends if they never get you, or even if they do it'll just make parting with them that much harder?"

This was weird. She was supposed to be gathering information, making the most of her unfortunate situation. She wasn't supposed to spilling her guts to some guy she barely knew, despite how strangely enchanting the idea seemed. But Mirajane continued, because she wasn't cynical. She continued because she hoped that Kalan could understand her, because if his pale eyes could look and tell so much about her in a glance, maybe he would actually _see her_.

"My parents left us when my sister was born, and she and my brother were really the only ones I cared about. We had each other, and that was really all that mattered." She paused. "I thought my parents were worthless for leaving us. I mean, what kind of parents do that, right?"

"Princess…"

"It cut me up the most, because I'm the only one who remembered them. Elfman was just a toddler, and Lisanna was barely out of the womb." She hadn't told anyone about this, ever. It was a secret so acrid she'd learned to live with it. She was a demon after all, and if anyone should swallow poison it should be her. "I didn't want them to know, not like how I knew, so I told them they were dead."

"Princess…"

"And the worst part is that somewhere in me I started to believe it. Who cares about anything that's not going to last, anyway? Our parents left us for no goddamn reason, and I gave my friends plenty of reason to leave. Maybe I wanted tha—"

"Mirajane."

Kalan had called her by name. That shut her up.

He wasn't looking at her. He said his next words lowly, almost at a whisper. "Stop, please. I can't…please, stop."

He sounded guilty, Mirajane thought. A line had been drawn, a line that had been pretty ambiguous until this moment. What it signified, or why it had been drawn, Mirajane couldn't know, because Kalan refused to look at her. And then he was turning to her, a grin stretching his scar, "You shouldn't go around saying such dark things, princess, there's a party tonight, remember?"

The moment was gone.

All such moments with Kalan were fleeting, so infuriatingly so that Mirajane sometimes questioned if they had really happened. The moment at the refrigerator. The one at the table. That moment on the roof in the rain. The first time she'd seen those strange pale eyes. They came and went like the wind. She glanced at Kalan, and for a second she'd caught him staring at her intently, as though she was a problem he was having a tough time solving. But in a second the grin was back, "You look good in that dress."

"I know," Mirajane said blankly. Kalan laughed, and looked away, then was silent.

There had been a stretch of time where the elevator shaft had gotten cold, but now it was quickly warming. Mirajane could hear the thump of music now, and a few staccato notes here and there. They were almost there, and Mirajane felt her heart begin to accelerate, until the excitement and anticipation had blended into one seamlessly sweaty emotion.

Kalan closed his eyes, and took in a long breath from his nose. "I really missed this, you know."

"Missed what?" Mirajane asked using a hand to fan herself. It was really starting to get hot.

Then the lift hit ground with a creaking thump, and the doors opened letting in darkness, colored lights and a blast of music. Kalan sighed, and his mouth blossomed into his dark, enchanting grin. His pale eyes reflected everything before them.

"This."

The room was something of an underground cavern, softly lit by huge luminescent lacrima, with huge vaulted ceilings and many pocket rooms, all carved into the rock itself. They had arrived one of four raised stone platforms that were scattered about the room, each one with an elevator shaft of its own.

Below them, a sprawling dance floor contained hundreds of dancing bodies. On a slightly lower platform that jutted out from the wall, a band was a playing, the sound carrying through the caver with the aid of some amplification lacrima. Their lead singer was a pretty blonde girl.

"This is incredible," Mirajane said breathlessly, forgetting momentarily that this was probably the den of Spectre, and subsequently one of the most dangerous places for her to be.

"Isn't it?" Kalan said with a laugh, easily making himself heard above the music, "This entire place used to be a theatre hundreds of years ago, then when Artisan took over, it was abandoned. It was just sitting here until we got a hold of it."

Mirajane nodded. There was so much going on, so much information she felt overwhelmed, quashed by the loud music and the smell of greasy food and the heat of hundreds of moving bodies. Kalan lightly touched her arm, his fingertips blazing against her skin. And strangely this grounded her; this man she was with was Kalan Baade, a member of Spectre she was Mirajane Strauss, a member of Fairy Tail, the guild who was supposed to help destroy them. That was the beginning and end of it. Yes, the very end of it; he wasn't anything special and neither was she. "Are you ready, princess?"

"Let's go," Mirajane said with an assurance that that she hadn't had in her voice in a long while.

"Then we're off," he said, guiding her by the shoulders through the crowd. They had started as soon as the two of them had stepped off the elevator, but now as they made their way down the platform, Mirajane could hear the whispers. At first she paid them no mind but soon she could hear the clear mutterings of _Baade._

They were had reached the dance floor, and the ripple of whispers had quickly grown into a wave of turning and heads and excited shouts. _Kalan's back? That Baade kid, here? Where the fuck has he been?_

Kalan himself ignored it all, his place-holding grin not wavering in the slightest. Any look his way, he refused to return. His eyes were dead set on their destination which seemed to another raised platform across the room, all the while keeping Mirajane close to him. Occasionally, there would be someone who would call his name, but he refused to acknowledge them.

When they were nearly to their destination, the music cut off abruptly, and over the lacrima the lead singer apologized and said she had some business to attend to, and that everyone could enjoy some pre-recorded songs in the interim. Around this time, they were stopped.

"Kal! Is that you?" there was a high voice, and before Mirajane could register what was going on, Kalan was jerked away from her by some brunette. She had passable looks; curly hair with muddy eyes, and a mini-skirt that was much too short, and barely anything covering her top. She quickly pulled Kalan into an embrace then continued to hang on him, "Kal, why didn't you tell me you were back in town?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Kalan said his grin almost slipping for a second. He gave Mirajane a pointed glance, probably wanting help. Maybe he wanted her to come in and say she was his date. But to be frank, Mirajane was enjoying Kalan's obvious discomfort so much she only folded her arms and smiled sweetly at him. His next look promised murder.

But the brunette girl, oblivious to their mini-exchange gave an equally oblivious laugh, "I'm Marie, remember?"

"No. Not in the slightest," Kalan said, his grin growing wider as hers fell, "Now if you'll excuse me, Marie, I got things to do."

As he finished, he grabbed Mirajane by the hand and plowed on towards their destination. Mirajane looked back, only to find that Marie girl staring after them with that same disgustingly hopeful look Tamara had given Kalan earlier. Kalan didn't seem disturbed by it at all, but it twisted Mirajane's gut.

"So I kind of lied, when I said you were here as my date," Kalan whispered, pulling her a little closer so she could hear, "You're supposed to be my shield."

"And what exactly am I protecting you from?" Mirajane asked, already knowing the answer. Maybe it was because of that exchange Kalan and that girl had just had, but she thought she noticed more girls staring at them now. Some were quickly fixing their makeup, others whispering frantically to their friends, and still others openly stared, ignoring the group of men that were vying for their attention.

"Them," Kalan said, following her gaze. "Don't worry all you need to do is follow me and look pretty."

Mirajane raised an eyebrow and gave Kalan her own smirk, "Was that just a compliment, perhaps?"

"I think so," he responded, then continued pulling her towards their destination. The platform had a little spiraling staircase that led up to it, and once they'd ascended, Kalan announced with a strange bit of pride, "We're here."

The platform had a few people dancing, but the dominating feature was a large structure that looked like a booth, and inside was a a large round table. The people dancing went still when they noticed them. To them however, Kalan gave a general nod, then led Mirajane into the booth.

All their faces turned to him. Kalan took a deep breath and his grin dropped clean off his face, "Sorry for the wait, everyone, but I'm back."

As Mirajane looked around the room, she saw some the faces from the photograph in Rudy Vill's room. There was the man with the spiky black hair, but his goatee now had slivers of grey in it. He was dressed in a plain tux with a black bow-tie. Tamara was there, sitting farthest from the door, a pitch black hair tied up in a bun, matching her minidress. She only spared them a glance of her crystal blue eyes before she decided that looking at the dance floor was infinitely more interesting. Rudy himself was lounging on the table, dressed in a surprisingly stylish red and brown suit.

"Well I'll be damned," the black haired man said rubbing his temples and letting out a huge breath. He had a clean unaccented voice, "You still have quite the sense of drama, Kalan."

Rudy laughed at this, "I'll say. Though this is a bit underwhelming for what I expected, to be honest." He leaned over to the black haired man, "Thought he was gonna come back in a huge ball of fire, you know, with like an army of wizards or something."

"Well the impressive part is coming later," Kalan said through a laugh as he went to clap Rudy on the shoulder. So they really were best friends, Mirajane thought. "So, princess, this is Rudy Vill."

"We've already met," Rudy said throwing a lazy grin and wave at Mirajane, "Though I wouldn't have asked if I'd known Kalan was your date."

Mirajane tried not to look at him, but she knew Kalan had noted that. But to his credit he didn't pause, "This man here is William Cole, but everyone just calls him Cole." He waved his hand towards the corner where Tamara still hadn't acknowledged them. "I think you've already met, but that's Tamara Rowland."

"Merlin, I was wondering why Tam was so gloomy today," Rudy whispered to Kalan just loud enough for Tamara to hear, a goofy smile adorning his face, "Should've guessed you weren't far behind."

Mirajane saw Tamara's carefully composed indifference crack and fall in one fluid motion. She was a flash of movement as she stood, and stalked out the door, muttering under her breath, "I need some air."

Kalan sighed before he flicked Rudy in the forehead, "That was so unnecessary."

Then the door was almost ripped off it hinges, and Mirajane half expected it to be Tamara returning, but instead it was the lead singer of the band. Up close, Mirajane saw she was actually the blonde girl from Rudy's picture. Not only that, but she was insanely pretty, in an manner so effortless it made Mirajane jealous; long straight blonde hair, a splattering of freckles and huge blue green eyes framed by long lashes. Even her modest dress was bursting with sex appeal.

"Guys is it true?" she was sweating and frantic, but it did nothing to mar her appearance, "I heard he w—" Then she caught sight of Kalan, and stopped dead in tracks. She stared at him for a second, and faster than Mirajane could register, she had wrapped him in what looked like a bone crushing hug. Kalan himself was almost lifted off the ground by the hysterical blonde.

"Where the hell have you been?" she sobbed into his shoulder, "You fucking idiot, we didn't even know if you were even coming back. Some people thought you died and—and…you never wrote us, all we fucking needed was some sign from you that you were—all right… "

"I'm sorry, Tia," Kalan whispered, rubbing her back in a small circle, "I'm sorry."

"You think just an apology is going to cut it?" she untangled herself from Kalan, and dabbed at her eyes. She punched him hard in the arm. "You're gonna have to do _something_ to make up for it or I swear to Merlin—who's that…and how come she's wearing my dress?"

It took Mirajane a a second to register that the attention of everyone in the room had fallen on her. Her cheeks began to warm and she gave a hopeful smile.

"This is Mirajane," Kalan said, gesturing towards the startled girl. "Mirajane, this is Tiara Alves. And I can explain about the dress, Tia."

"Uh huh," the woman said skeptically. She walked up to Mirajane, as if appraising her. Tiara looked her up and down before she looked back to Kalan, "Figures though, you're gone for nearly a year and you show back up with a new pretty girly."

"Um, I am not his _girly_," Mirajane interjected indignantly. This earned her the surprised looks of everyone in the room, save Kalan, whose expression could only be described as intrigued.

Tiara was the first to recover with a laugh, and she poked Kalan in the ribs, "A girl who doesn't follow everything you say? Wow, you're losing your touch, Kalan." He muttered something to her that Mirajane couldn't quite catch, and the blonde laughed even more. "I like her."

Mirajane smiled, thankful at least one person in the room had taken to her. "Um, Tiara—"

"Call me Tia."

"—-Tia, thanks for the dress, I guess."

"Anytime, hun," the blonde said amiably. She sat down in one of the stone chairs and gracefully crossed her legs, "So Kalan, you going to tell us about what you've been up to for the past eight months?"

"Maybe another time," he said, and his grin seemed to flicker, "We all know there's something more important and pressing."

William Cole's eyes widened, "You're going to…?"

Kalan nodded.

"So I assume you've got a plan, right?" Rudy asked, looking excited. "A really, really cool one, right?"

"….Yes," Kalan said. He pointed at Tia, "Make sure that the music stops and your band clears the stage at midnight exactly." He then waved his hand to Cole, "Stop serving drinks right now, and throw out anyone who's plastered. If anyone asks, say it was a problem with the supplier." The hand fell to Rudy, "I think you know what to do, Rudy."

"So just the usual?" Rudy asked, rolling up his sleeves. Kalan nodded again.

Everyone with their strange orders left, filing out of the room. After they left, Kalan fell heavily into one of the stone chairs, and let out a huge sigh. He held up his hands, to the light. They were shaking.

"I don't think I've ever been this nervous, princess," he said as he let loose another shuddering sigh.

"What are you going to do?" Mirajane asked, but she really didn't want to know.

"Something long overdue," was his cryptic response. He stood, and clenched his shaking hands, before stuffing them in his pockets, "Speaking of, I need to prepare." He began to leave, but stopped in front of Mirajane, with a full on grin. But when he clasped her shoulder, his hand was still shaking "Enjoy the party, princess, but make sure you get a good seat for the show."

Then he was gone, leaving Mirajane standing alone in the stone booth with a fearsome apprehension tearing away at her.

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(East Side)

The East Side of Caerleon is home to a large population of Islanders, a minority who immigrated from the Scale Isles ages ago to avoid getting trapped on the sinking island. While they founded the city, once Artisan and the ethnic majority of Fiore settled in, they were treated as second class citizens.

* * *

><p>There were no stars in the sky of Caerleon, and this fact perplexed and revolted Beau Underwood so much so that for the duration of their in the damned stay he'd refused to look at the sky at night. Now, long after sunset he kept his head down, his crimson scarf wrapped securely around his right eye. It was a good thing he didn't see to know where he was going.<p>

It had been child's play to lose Katrina; a few lefts and rights, and the girl had completely lost sight of him, and with his degree of magical control, she couldn't have found him even if she was good at sensing magic. She was a powerful mage, but she needed tempering. That would come with time, but it was beyond him why Naito had stuck her with him, especially as patience wasn't quite his strong suit.

But without realizing it he had arrived. Looking around though, he didn't see his quarry. He glanced up to the rooftops.

"Obviously," he murmured. He did a quick check around him to make sure no one was looking to closely at him, then with a little effort he coiled his legs and jumped up to the closest roof. He touched down softly, and scanned around for the magic he was sure he'd felt.

"Mr. Underwood what brings you here?"

The deep baritone belonged to none other than the one he'd come to see; a cat. His body was small and covered in black fur, with white stripes on his back. His eyes were large, blood red, and fiercely intelligent. He was almost a typical cat, save for an small ivory horn that protruded from the bridge of his nose.

"Pandora," Beau beamed, reaching down to pet the black cat, who dodged effortlessly, jumping up onto a chimney out of his reach.

"You know I abhor being pet, Mr. Underwood," the cat said calmly.

"Ah, I can't help it," Beau said, "You look so cute in that form."

"Would you prefer I take a _different _one?" Pandora almost growled, and Beau didn't doubt which one he was referring to. He still hadn't forgotten the last time he had witnessed this little _cat _angry.

"That's all right, I just came here to talk."

"About what, pray tell?" the cat stretched and sat back on his haunches, inclining his head at Beau, "As I recall there is no way for you to know I'd arrived in the city."

"Come one, Pandora, don't sell me short," Beau leaned against the chimney, but didn't look up to the starless night that framed Pandora, "I could sense you the moment you came within ten miles of me."

"You overestimate that skill of yours, Mr. Underwood. Regardless, you have yet to explain _why_ you've come to see me."

He chuckled lowly, "Well, as _I_ recall you find these missions Naito takes distasteful."

"To say the least."

"So then why I'm here, is because I'm wondering why you're here." Beau said, not that Pandora didn't know this. More often than not, Pandora knew the route of a conversation, but insisted on following it from start to finish; talking to him was more of a ritual, necessary if you wanted to get any information from the cat. "And that seemed infinitely more interesting than grilling some thugs."

"It sounds to me as though you are once again skipping the tasks Naito assigned you, Mr. Underwood."

"Naito Galatine is not my master," Beau said.

"A simple matter of syntax," the cat said with a thunder like purr that was his laugh. "Your frantic need for a distinct self is most amusing."

"It's even more amusing how you dodged my question," he chuckled, ignoring the snip, "Not a very wise move for you. Only makes me even more interested."

"Your keen intellect is _astounding_, Mr. Underwood," Pandora drawled, leaping down from the chimney. He landed easily on the edge of the building. "Very well, I will oblige you, if only because I am in a hurry."

This was news to Beau—he hadn't ever once seen, or even dreamed of Pandora being in a hurry.

"Did you not think it strange when Naito decided to take this job? So far away from our base, and we are not in need of jewels…there should be no reason for him to accept this job, let alone bring all of you here." The cat was pacing back and forth now, his tail flicking anxiously. "Normally I don't question his decisions, but when I confronted him with these questions, he refused to answer."

"So that's why you're here," Beau said dejectedly, "just to check up on Naito?"

"You overestimate me, Mr. Underwood. I would've let him reap what he would sow, but his reasons for undertaking this task are misguided. This morning I overheard a message between some of our old friends and it became clear to me why Naito wishes to catch this Ghost. But in his eagerness he has forgotten that he is not the only one seeking this prize."

"Old friends…" Beau felt his stomach drop, "Why are they h—"

"I don't know you dolt!" Pandora snapped. "Now if you're quite done holding me up, I must go ensure that Naito does not bring harm to himself, or to the rest of you."

And with that, the cat leapt off the building and became seamlessly a black hawk with a white beak streaking off into that murky soup of a night. Beau looked after him for a second, and shook his head. Naito had a knack for making things complicated, but this changed things. This changed things a whole fucking lot.

"Old friends, huh…" he murmured under his breath.

* * *

><p>Caerleon City<p>

(South Side)

After their diaspora from the Scale Isles, and being annexed by Artisan, the Islanders found their home in the South Side. The art of theatre, and later storytelling played an important role in the preservation of culture, and it was so effective all modern Islanders can recount the tales of Merlin and his wizards, stories completely untouched by time.

* * *

><p>Kalan Baade was touched with such a strange fit of nervousness, he couldn't bring himself to feel worried. He knew what he had to do, what he was going to do. The only thing he didn't know was what he was going to do with his hands; they wouldn't stop shaking.<p>

He didn't know what do with his expression, either; he wouldn't stop grinning.

The elevator up had taken less time up than it had down—that Mirajane always seemed to make things move slower—and he stepped off into an empty. This elevator only took him was to the first floor of the building, hidden in room 104. He opened the door, only to find himself lifted off the ground by a giant of a man. Damnit, he'd forgotten there would be someone guarding the elevators.

The man was bald, with the Spectre tattoos running vertically along his head, dressed in a black suit with white pinstripes that struggled to contain his mass. He had a cohort standing next to him, identical to him except his suit was white with black pinstripes. Both wore sunglasses, but Kalan could practically feel their eyes bugging as they realized who he was.

"Eh? That you Kalan?" the hulking man holding him said in wonder.

"No doubt, that his mug all right," the other one confirmed.

"Raul, Paul, good to see you," Kalan said as he was set down. He brushed some wrinkles out of his suit and grinned, almost glad for the distraction. Paul and Raul were twins, and shared everything from favorite drinks, to which magical steroid improved muscle mass the fastest.

"Good to see you, too," Raul said, giving a slight bow, "T'wasn't sure if you was gonna come back at all."

His twin punched him, "You wasn't supposed to say that, idiot."

"No, it's fine Paul." Kalan said, reaching up to put his hand on each of their shoulders, "I'm sorry I was gone for so long, but I'm back now. To stay."

The two blubbered something incoherent, then went into matching three fingered salutes. Kalan gave them one last smile before he left. He hadn't expected to miss them quite as much as he had. He hadn't expected to miss anything, really, but he had.

This whole place, Kalan had realized was a part of him.

Before he knew it has already at that familiar peeling red door. He traced the name on the door—his name—and admired the golden letters. He reached for his key, only to remember that it had been among the things he'd tossed into the river when he'd left. But the door wasn't shut completely.

Cautiously he pushed the door open, flicked on the lights and took a quick scan of the apartment. Everything looked just how he'd left it. A strange smell, like overly sweet fruit wafted over him, but that was the only thing abnormal.

"Nerves must be getting to me," Kalan mumbled, rubbing his brow with a shaking hand.

He walked over to the fridge, to maybe get some champagne, but was startled on the way by the state of his couch—blankets, makeup—that's right, there was someone else here with him now. The princess. Mirajane. It had been a long time since Kalan had let someone into his space.

Giving up on the champagne, Kalan decided he'd just do what he came here to do. Stalked over to his room. The sweet smell was growing not only stronger, but more familiar. He couldn't exactly place it, but he knew he'd dreamt of this scent. Into the black of his room, he let loose a long breath, "So this is where you got to, Tam."

He could tell she was in there, even in the darkness.

"I was wonderin' when you'd come by." she whispered, and he heard a rustle as she reached over to turn on the bedside lamp.

What greeted Kalan was a familiar image; Tamara Rowland sprawled on his bed.

Her black dress was riding up and slipping off her shoulders, her hair had fallen out of its bun and hung around her like a corona. The image was so familiar he almost began to pull off his shirt, thinking of nothing but those enticing lips. But he resisted the impulse, and those same lips quirked into a strange smile. "Remind you of old times?"

"A little," Kalan said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She didn't move closer, and she didn't shy away.

"You're not sleeping with that girl, are you?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know."

Kalan felt her sit up. She reached out, and ran her fingertip along his scar, "You've really changed you know?"

"How so?" He asked. He closed his eyes for a moment, then carefully grabbed her hand, and returned it to her side.

"Like that," she said, giving his hand a little squeeze before she let go. She smiled that strange little smile. "You used to never take me serious, but you'd let me touch you. Now, you won't let me touch you, but you're taking me serious."

Kalan was silent, a swell of guilt causing him to work his jaw. He opened his mouth once, then finally said it, "I'm sorry for all of it, Tam."

She looked at him for a long time with that strange smile, before she began to laugh. It was a tumultuous laugh that fell out of her mouth and washed over Kalan and curled her into a ball clutching her sides.

"What?"

"Don't think I ever heard you say sorry like that." she said, wiping a few tears from her eyes.

Kalan scoffed, "All I'm doing is apologizing tonight."

"That's 'cause you're an asshole."

"Maybe," he admitted with a small grin, "But I'm going to make up for it tonight."

"See, you really did change," she said, her crystalline eyes still wet, but with different tears this time, "I a-always hoped you could be more than what you were, and look at you now. Merlin, you're almost too bright to look at."

By the time she had finished there were tears streaming down her face, but she wasn't sobbing. Tamara wasn't one for hysterics, but she could cry. Maybe that had been what had first drawn him to her, the fact she wasn't afraid to cry. And, Merlin, he'd made her cry.

"Whats wrong, Tam?" he asked, the question he never had before because he had always been what was wrong. He reached out on instinct to take her hand, but she gasped and recoiled from his touch like he'd burned her.

She stood and shook her head, "No—this, s-stupid—fine, I'm—"

She was backing away, turning, trying to run. And maybe, eight months ago, he would've let her. But Kalan surge to his feet and caught her by he waist, pulling her back against him. He tucked the crown of her head underneath his chin, and murmured soothing nonsense. Like he should've done all those times. But she only cried harder, and fought with him for a second then went limp.

After a long while he felt her hand brush his arm, "Let me go, Kalan. Please.."

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

But as soon as he loosened his grip on her she spun quickly, and on her tiptoes she kissed him on the cheek, then leaned into him to whisper in his ear, "I'm the one who should be saying sorry."

Without another word she spun again and left, leaving Kalan in his dimly lit room, feeling as though the closure he'd just gotten with Tamara had opened up a whole other, much larger something. But he didn't have the time to worry about that.

He reached over an unlatched a trick door in his bedside dresser, and pulled out what he had came here for; a blank white mask.

* * *

><p>"Who the hell are you with, you stinking fucking wizard? Artisan?"<p>

The man was of average height, with coarse hair that spilled onto his back. His hands were workers hands, bruised and worn from a young age. In those worn hands he held a knife, with a streak of red dripping from it.

The blood was fresh but cold. Everything that spilled from him was.

Naito hadn't expected the man to put up much of a fight, so it was only with shock that he noticed that this man had managed to cut him, a feat that should have been nigh impossible. He looked down, to try and find the wound; it was on his hand, stretching across his pale palm. It was already sealing itself, the skin knitting itself back together and the blood receding.

But there was still blood, his own ice cold blood on this man's blade.

"I am indeed with Artisan," Naito said offhandedly, his gaze locked on his own blood, which was falling to the pavement. He couldn't for the life of him remember how this man had cut him, "And you are with Spectre. That makes us enemies, does it not?"

"Damn straight it does," the coarse man growled, "and 'cause you're my enemy, I'm gonna gut you like one."

"I doubt it," Naito said airily raising his hand and summoning a bit of magic, "Sorry about this, but circumstances demand it."

A whisper of air, and magic old, old magic stopped him.

"Adding another body to your name? Where will it end, Naito?" The voice was impossibly deep, and rung like thunder through the alley. The coarse man threw up his hands in fear, but Naito only let out a noise of exasperation.

"How unexpected of you, Pandora," Naito said, turning around to see the cat silhouetted in the entrance of the alley. As many gripes as he had about that form, he sure was fond of it. Exerting his own magic slightly, Naito broke the restraining spell.

"You couldn't have thought I wouldn't notice, could you?" The cat shook his tiny head, "A man of your intelligence, yet you still insist on acting the fool."

Seeing his opportunity to escape amidst the strange turn of events the coarse man bolted from the alley. Naito didn't stop him. Forgotten was the blood on his knife, and the cut on his hand had already healed.

"I am far too old for your lectures, Pandora."

"You say so, yet you still take risk after needless risk!" Pandora boomed, "Did you honestly think for a second that you were the only one who took notice of the boy? They will see your actions not as defiance, but a declaration of war!"

"Of course I did," Naito said, waving a hand at the sky, "Of course they noticed him! But how could I pass up an opportunity like this, Pandora? This is the chance we've been waiting for all these years, to finally disrupt this sodding equilibrium we're trapped in. And maybe a war is what needs to happen."

"But the equilibrium was already disrupted seven years ago," Pandora said quietly his red eyes gleaming. "The disruption you seek may finally snap the pendulum, but then what? And don't think I failed to notice what was missing from the vault."

"So you've figured it out then." Naito reached into his cloak and pulled out the item in question. It looked like a gem made of glass, all jagged angles that took in and refracted light. He could see himself, and the black night splayed jaggedly together. He could see that in the core of the gem, there was a tiny white light, pulsating like a heartbeat. "What else could I do with the Glass Heart, but break it?"

"I hope you won't, because if you're planning what I believe you are, then I cannot abide by it. I am bound to you, but my duty is to help you fix this world. I will not stand by and let you become the engine of its destruction."

"You say those things like they're different," Naito let a small gout of black flame gush from his fingertips. It spiraled off and dissipated, leaving behind only cold. "_Iredomi_. It's an Islander word that means 'the something of nothing'. A void and a whole aren't different at all. They are the same point on a circle, one seamlessly intrinsic to the other. They only look different, if you stretch it out into a line."

"You may hide behind them, but can your philosophies justify what you're planning do to this boy?" Pandora shook his head in disappointment. "Have you become so bitter you think he deserves your fate?"

"On the contrary, my ages old friend," Naito drawled, giving Pandora a silvery eyed wink, "It is because I am bitter that I plan on giving him a much better fate than has been lined up for him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So the story is kind of going slow now, I get it, but things will heat up and move faster once Naito and Kalan finally meet.

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So, er, what exactly is Tam sorry for? Hint, it'll be a while before you find out for sure...

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Review if ya liked!


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